Springtime at Locksley
by muchbeddled
Summary: Robin and Marian are happily married and living at Locksley. Allan a Dale pays a visit, and tells the children his version of Robin Hood. A witch threatens havoc on their peaceful village, and an enemy from their past poses as the Abbess of Kirklees.
1. Chapter 1

"I'd rather you didn't do that."

Robin's pleasant, teasing voice caught Marian by surprise. She had just finished nursing their infant son Edward, and was relacing her gown. She hadn't heard her husband come home. He must have deliberately been quiet to surprise her.

"Oh, wouldn't you?" she smiled back at him, her fingers deftly tying off the laces."It's the middle of the day, I'll have you know. Why aren't you attending to your village?"

Robin edged closer and seized her around her waist, forcing a delighted gasp from her lips. He pressed his face to her neck and began kissing it. Marian wiggled and squirmed, pretending to want to break away, but she was only playing. Her smile betrayed how much she enjoyed his kisses. His whiskers scraped her skin, but his enticing mouth was irrestible.

"Because," he answered between nips, "there's nothing to attend to. No disputes, no hunger, no unhappiness of any kind."

"What, none at all?"

"None, unless you count Daniel's scraped knee or a few adolescent cases of unrequited love. And speaking of unrequited love-"

"Maybe you should raise rents, just to stir up trouble."

He laughed, knowing she was joking. In spite of King John's crippling policies, Robin and Marian worked hard and made sacrifices to ensure peace and prosperity in their village. For the time being, they had restored Locksley to its former happy state, as it had been before Sheriff Vaisey had taken over as Sheriff of Nottingham and installed Guy of Gisbourne to oversee, or more accurately, terrorize it.

Robin stood smiling lovingly down at Marian, his hands resting lightly on her hips. She embraced him around his neck, letting her fingers play with the curls at its nape.

"Robin," she said, "there's something I would like."

"Name it. You know I can't refuse you anything. And if you were a dutiful wife-"

"I want a garden. Not a kitchen garden...a real one. I'd like to grow roses and lilies and lilacs in the yard."

Robin stopped teasing her. Smiling gently, he replied, "Of course! Plant whatever you'd like! This is your home, too, Marian."

He remembered the garden at Knighton, and wondered how long Marian had been missing her flowers. He wished he'd thought of it himself.

She squeezed him in a grateful hug, her eyes sparkling with joy. Her words came tripping off her tongue as she envisioned it. "And Ellie and Grace can help me tend it, and we'll have cuttings for inside the manor, and our village brides may choose what they like, and, oh, thank you!"

She kissed him happily, then broke the embrace and asked, "Is that Allan's voice?"

"He's downstairs, entertaining the girls with one of his stories. His son's with him."

"Seth, too?"

"No. Just Allan."

Allan a Dale had recently married Annie, a former kitchen girl from Nottingham Castle, who had bourne Guy of Gisbourne a son she'd named Seth. Allan was also raising a young boy named after himself, whom he had unknowingly fathered after spending one night with Sarah, the fuller's daughter, immediately following Robin and Much's hurried departure from her father's swordpoint on their way home from war. Young Allan was a "chip off the old block," so to speak, and a great favorite of the two tiny Locksley girls.

"I hope he's keeping his story clean," Marian said, knowing how Allan's tales tended to run on the salty side.

"Why don't we go down and listen? Maybe he'll clean it up if you give him one of your reproving looks."

Marian entwined her fingers through her husband's and together, they went downstairs to greet their guests.

...

Allan a Dale was in the middle of a story he was concocting off the top of his head about Robin Hood and his gang of famous outlaws. Robin and Marian would have been wise to have joined him sooner, for they would not have approved much of what he was telling their small girls.

"So," Allan had already told them, "Crazy Vaisey plunged your da's tiger tooth up into his gums and made his way to the forest, snarling like a tiger himself, eager to catch Robin Hood. But before he could find him, out steps Little John, swinging his big stick. John didn't even need to strike! Soon as he lifts his arms above his head, boom! The sheriff drops to the ground, passed out from the stink of John's arm pits."

His son burst into laughter at that, but little Ellen and Grace listened with wide eyes, being too young and innocent to catch the joke.

"So, John hauls the sheriff to the camp," Allan continued. "Much, who wasn't a lord yet, but only a servant, is standing over the cooking fire, crying his eyes out.

" 'Stop your weepin',' Little John orders him. 'I brought the sheriff.'

" 'But, they're so cute, with their big brown eyes and big fluffy tails! I just hate killin' them,' Much snivels.

" 'Then don't, and kill us something better to eat!'

" 'But I already shot us all the bunnies,' Much cries.

"Will's too busy whittlin' to say a word. Even when Djaq goes over to him, wigglin' her hips to get his attention, he doesn't look up.

"Robin's walking around in a dazed way. He's been sneakin' off at night, romping with Marian in her bed, (hush), so he doesn't even care John's brought him the sheriff. 'Ah, Marian,' he says, all sighing and lovey dovey like, 'at last you let me squeeze your fine round arse! We'll marry soon, and you will be Queen of Sherwood!'

"Sheriff Vaisey wakes up, looks around him, and says, 'So, Hood, my fine feathered friend,' (the sheriff liked birds, you see, and often mistook Robin for one, on account of his name). 'I have found your camp, and now I'm going to catch you and string you up from a gibbet till your pretty little neck snaps and you're dead.'

" 'A clue...no.'

"That was me, using the sheriff's own words as a way to mock him. Marian was too busy making herself beautiful, so she wasn't a good spy anymore. So I went to the castle, and took over her job, freeing her up for more time to bounce on the bed whenever Robin would come to call."

Ellen shook her head gravely. "No bouncing on the beds," she said. Her younger sister Grace kept getting into trouble for doing it, but wouldn't stop, even though she had a raised bruise on her forehead from falling onto the wooden floorboards.

"This was a different sort of bouncing. (Allan, you hush.) This kind of bouncing your da approved of. Anyway, I come chargin' into the camp, and only Djaq is happy to see me. She bats her big brown eyes at me, and I tell her, 'Not now, Gorgeous, I gotta job to do, savin' you lot from the sheriff!' "

It was at this point in the story that Robin and Marian joined them.

"And they all lived happily ever after," Allan finished quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

Whenever Robin returned from an outing away from his village, he was amazed at the transformation in his yard.

Marian had grown passionate about her garden, planting seedlings and full grown rose bushes, flowering trees and sweet smelling herbs. Butterflies found a haven in Locksley, as did bees. Robin's ancestral home was undeniably made lovely, but it was a bit too flowery for his taste. Still, the garden made Marian happy, and he delighted in her pleasure, as well as that of his daughters, who danced with joy because of all the pretty flowers and butterflies.

The girls loved "helping" their mother tend the garden. Grace especially enjoyed digging in the dirt with her small spade. Ellen enjoyed planting the seeds or seedlings into the ground and covering them with dirt. Both girls begged to help their mother water, and Marian let them, watching in amusement tinged with frustration, as they dumped the entire contents of the watering jug onto each plant. Often, the watering jug itself slipped from their hands and came crashing down, smashing tender shoots.

"No harm done," Marian said comfortingly, wiping away tears from small cheeks, when her girls believed they had "killed" the plants. "What's underground is what matters. If the roots are good and strong, the plant will come back stronger than ever."

How very like us, she resisted saying. What was in the heart remained hidden, yet if it were solid and strong, then no wound to the outer skin could ever kill the soul. She thought of the two ugly wounds on her abdomen, wishing they weren't there. How she wished she could appear naked before her husband, beautiful and unblemished, but then dismissed her thought as vanity. Robin's body was covered in more battle scars than she dared count, yet naked, she found him the most beautiful sight she could ever hope to see.

She dismissed that thought as well, for the spring sunshine was already warm enough, without her dwelling on thoughts better saved for later.

She looked up to see Robin returning to the manor now, astride Arion, with Edward strapped to him. Allan a Dale rode beside him, with his son Allan riding pillion.

Marian brushed the dirt from her hands and reached up to let down her hair, for she had tied it up in a cloth just to keep it from her face, and she didn't find it becoming for company. From astride his horse, Robin watched her dark gleaming locks cascade down her back. Even after several years of marriage, the sight never failed to stop his breath.

"Good afternoon, Allan," Marian greeted him. "What do you think of my garden?"

"Whoa!" Allan exclaimed. "You did all this since I was last here? Looks like fairies' magic."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She reached for her baby after Robin dismounted. "Did you have fun with Daddy?" she cooed, holding Edward and beaming with delight as he squealed with joy at seeing her again.

Ellen and Grace each hugged one of Robin's legs, then ran to Allan and begged, "Robin Hood story!"

"Robin Hood story?" Robin asked suspiciously. "Don't tell me you've been filling their heads with tales of that unsavory outlaw!" He swaggered proudly to Marian, bent and kissed her lovingly, then suggested, "Why don't you tell us all a Robin Hood story, Allan? I think I'd enjoy hearing your take on the tales."

"Go on," young Allan encouraged. "Some of the stories are really good! Make you laugh till you pee your pants!"

"Shut up!" Allan cried, goodnaturedly cuffing his son on the side of his head. "Robin lived it. He dudn't wanna hear it all again."

"I think you're wrong," Robin said, his eyes gleaming. "Go on, tell us all your stories."

He sat down on the grass, pulling Marian down alongside him. She placed Edward to sit up before her, helping him balance against her body. Elllen and Grace sat on either side of their parents, faces shining and eyes expectant.

"Alright," Allan sighed, knowing when he was beaten. "A Tale of Robin Hood. Let me think. Alright, here we go."

Allan always knew he was blessed with luck. At that moment, Edward, the baby, was stung by a bee. He raised up a cry, and Marian rushed him into the manor. Robin followed at her heels.

"Aw, too bad," Allan said happily. "Now your parents can't hear the story."

"Tell us! Tell us!" Ellen requested.

"Robin Hood!" Grace cried.

"Alright," Allan grinned. "It all began one sunny spring afternoon in Sherwood, a day not much different from today..."


	3. Chapter 3

Baby Edward's bee sting did not prove serious. Fresh mud drew the stinger out and soothed the pain, but Robin and Marian completely missed Allan's highly entertaining and saucy tale.

Early the following morning, just before dawn, Marian woke her husband as he was about to cross over the threshhold to another nightmare. Marian was well accustomed to the signs of a nightmare approaching, and she was glad to be awake to save Robin from his chilling dream.

Looking all about his room to get his bearings, Robin breathed out a heavy sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Thank you, Marian," he said haltingly. "I nearly went back there again."

"Come here instead," she invited, lying beside him and opening her arms. He slid into her embrace, letting himself be cradled in her arms.

The sound of birdcalls heralding a new day greeted them as they nestled together in their bed. It had been a warm spring night, and they had slept with the windows open. A soft breeze stirred the air.

"Hmm," Robin sighed. "I can smell a hint of your garden from here. Roses. Or is that you?"

Grinning, he burrowed his head playfully between her breasts and kissed her through her nightdress. Marian rolled onto her back and squirmed gently, smiling brightly. He moved up to kiss her lips.

Her eyes opened wide when he playfully grabbed her bottom. He was snickering as he kissed her, and she shoved at his hands and pulled away.

He continued grinning at her, his face wearing its most mischievious look.

Marian wasn't truly annoyed, but it was part of the game to pretend to be. "Robin of Locksley," she scolded, but she couldn't keep her own grin from breaking through her stern expression, "I offer you comfort and security, and you grab my...! How would you like it, if I-"

She reached behind him and squeezed his tight little backside as hard as she could. Soon, they were engaged in a competitive, romantic tussle.

Their conversation did not stop, even as they play wrestled, for Robin had a lot on his mind and needed Marian's advice.

"You need to keep the children occupied here today," he told her, between nibbles on her earlobe.

"Why?"

Robin stopped the game and looked at her seriously. "Do you remember the other day, when I said everything was well in Locksley?"

"Isn't it?"

"No, Marian, it's not."

"What is it?" she asked with genuine concern, leaning up on her elbows.

He pulled her back to him and wove one hand through her hair, letting his other hand slide gently up and down her back.

"Just rumors, I hope."

"Stop being so evasive, Robin. You can trust me. What rumors?"

He stopped his caressing and told her, "There are rumors of a witch living in Sherwood, Marian."

She scoffed, sitting up and shaking out her hair. "What's so unusual about that? Ever since I can remember, people have spread stories about witches living in the woods."

"I know. But I need to make sure there's nothing to the tales. Livestock have gone missing."

She gave him a look of disbelief. "Again, that's nothing new. Outlaws still roam the forest, Robin, though the bloodthirsty ones now living there aren't fighting for justice, just for survival. Who's to say they haven't grown tired of squirrel meat, and snuck into the village to steal something else for their supper?"

"You're probably right," he agreed, though he still looked worried. He hadn't told Marian about the unearthly wailings heard coming from the forest after dark, nor the plentiful figures fashioned from twigs strung up on trees.

To Marian's disappointment, Robin climbed out of bed and began dressing. "I'll stop by Bonchurch to collect Much, and he and I will see if we can put a stop to the rumors of witchcraft."

Marian leaned back on the pillows, watching him arm himself with knife, sword, bow and quiver. Her husband truly was taking the rumors seriously.

"Be careful," she sighed. "And if do you find a witch, don't let her cast her spells over you," she teased. "I expect you home before supper, the same Christian warrior who left his wife so unsatisfied this morning."

"Unsatisfied?" he chuckled. "Alright. I'll be sure to come back. You know how I love a challenge."

"Just stay safe," she murmured quietly, when he returned to kiss her goodbye.

He left her with the kiss as his only goodbye, and in almost no time at all she heard Arion's hoofbeats thundering away toward Bonchurch.

The sun had just begun to rise. Sighly heatedly, she rolled over in the bed, hoping to catch a bit more sleep before her children awoke to play in the sunshine of a new spring day.


	4. Chapter 4

Much hesitantly led the horses on foot, while Robin tracked a trail of bare human footprints through Sherwood Forest. Every time a crow cawed or a twig snapped, Much jumped nervously.

"Look," Robin said, "another silver strand of hair."

"And another one of those horrible, horrible twig people!"

Much crossed himself twice, just to be sure. Frowning, Robin snapped the twig figure from the tree and crushed it underfoot.

"What can it mean?" Much asked.

"Bare footprints and silver hair mean poverty and old age," Robin answered, "and someone who needs our help. Twig figures? I'm not so sure. But they're nothing to fear, Much."

"Then why are you destroying them?"

"Because they incite fear, and rumor, and superstition. Three things the people of Locksley do not need."

"I knew that," Much proclaimed confidently.

An acorn dropped from the branches of an oak, causing Much to leap two feet into the air and nearly lose his breakfast.

"Come on," Robin grinned, laughing lightly and shaking his head at his friend. "I think we're getting close."

Much watched as Robin quickened his steps and disappeared through the thickening foliage. "Close?" he asked the horses. "Close to what?"

Realizing he would rather run toward danger at Robin's side, than stand all alone and wait for danger to find him, he lifted his voice and called, "Robin! Wait for me!" Urging the horses forward, he followed his friend, muttering under his breath the entire way.

...

Even before they reached the small cave carved into a hillside, they could smell the sickening sweet odors issuing from it. The horses were as spooked as Much and refused to advance, so Robin told Much to tie their reins to a tree.

At least twenty more twig figures swung from chest high tree branches, and Robin distastefully tore them down and snapped them to bits under his boots. Much's arm was so tired from crossing himself, it cramped.

"That cave would appear to house our 'witch,' " Robin said quietly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Are you ready to pay her a call?"

"You love this, don't you?" Much snapped.

Robin, grinning, gave Much an inquisitive look. "Come on, there's nothing to fear. You brought your shield along!"

Much humphed. "Fine lot of good my shield will do, protecting me from the invisible forces of darkness!"

"It saved you from Saladin's armies, not to mention Sheriff Vaisey and Gisbourne! The way I see it, we've already stared Evil straight in the face, and come out victors. Come on!"

Sighing, Much followed Robin to the mouth of the cave. Every step closer increased the offensive smells, so that Robin needed all his sense of breeding not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Much didn't even try to stifle his coughs.

Just outside the entrance, Robin gently lifted his voice and called, "Good morning! May we come in? My name is Robin of Locksley, and this is my friend Much, Lord Bonchurch. We come in friendship."

There was no answer save a deep humming sound from within. Robin and Much looked at one another, then stepped inside the cave.

"I hate caves!" Much whispered. "Especially this one! Ugh! It's full of bat droppings, and stinky smells coming from God knows what, and...and...This is horrible!"

"Shh!" Robin had to grab Much's cloak to prevent him from turning and fleeing.

It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, neither liked what he saw.


	5. Chapter 5

Inside the small, stuffy cave, Robin and Much widened their eyes as they looked in disgust at everything all about them.

Much had been right when he said bat droppings were everywhere. There were layers of them, making slippery the earthen floor. A broom of rushes leaned against a wall, but it obviously had never been used for sweeping. Cobwebs stretched across nearly every surface, including a massive decaying stump that sprouted grey mushrooms. The largest, ugliest toad either man had ever seen blinked yellow watery eyes at them from its place on top of a rickety table. Carcasses of various animals, in varying states of decomposition, were strung up across the cavern on a rope. Much wasn't sure, but they appeared to have once been a cow, a rabbit, a goat, and a dog. The goat was still dripping blood, making the floor even more slippery. Much hoped the ruddy brownish colored marks splattering the cave walls were not blood as well, but he was pretty sure they were. Hanging over their heads was a plethora of dried plants, including several poisonous varieties. A large iron cauldron bubbled a foul smelling brew over a smokey fire. And in the midst of all this mess, a woman rocked back and forth on her knees on the floor, humming and chanting to herself, oblivious to her visitors.

"She's a witch, alright," Much declared, crossing his chest again. "Let's go!"

Robin made the sign of the cross as well, but stood watching the woman with fascination. Her clothing was dirty and ragged, her feet bare and filthy, her hair hung past her waist and shone like pure silver, her hands were gnarled and bent with age, but her face had not a single line or crease on it. It was a beautiful face, yet when the woman finally opened her eyes and looked at them, Robin thought her eyes looked dead. There was no spark or breath of life in them, and Robin found it now a hideous face, one he wished he'd never seen.

The woman rose to her feet and coldly regarded her unwelcome visitors.

"Why have you come?" she asked in a low, other worldly voice. "Are you in need of a spell?"

"No spells," Robin answered, for Much could not speak, but stood behind his friend, not wishing to remain, yet refusing to leave Robin alone with the witch.

"Have you come to burn me then?" she asked.

"We do not burn witches. It is barbaric," Robin answered.

"What then do you require of me, Robin of Locksley?" she asked. Without seeming to take a step, she suddenly appeared directly in front of Robin, purring loudly and angrily as she rubbed her body lustfully against his.

Robin maintained his cold composure, yet took a step back, uncertain what to say. The woman and her hovel repulsed him. She stank of filth and decay, and her obvious desire for him made him nauseous. He reminded himself that she had once been someone's little girl, and visualized his own precious daughters.

The witch hissed and spit like a furious cat, as if she had read his thoughts and found them worthy of her anger.

"Tell me your name," Robin said in a clear steady voice. He could sense Much trembling in fear behind him.

"I am called Gwyan," she told him.

"You're Welsh?" he asked in surprise.

"I belong to the Earth," she answered cryptically. All of a sudden, she closed her eyes and uttered a high pitched scream that droned on and on.

Robin and Much glanced at one another. "Let's go, Robin," Much said anxiously again.

Gwyan opened her eyes and stared coldly into Robin's eyes. "You!" she cried accusingly. "You destroyed my children!"

"What children?" Robin asked angrily.

"Just for that, I curse you! Your wife shall be barren!"

At that, Much found he couldn't keep still any longer. "You're too late, I think you'll find!" he declared pompously. "I'll have you know Marian has already made Robin a proud father several times over! So, you may take your curses and cook them in your disgusting...your disgusting..." His voice trailed off when he met her cold hard stare.

The witch pointed a bony, twisted finger at Robin and snarled, "Your children will die, one by one!"

Robin looked at her, shaking his head to discount her curse. "We'll be back," he told her. "In the meantime, you are to stay away from my village. If you need food or clothing, I can bring it to you, or leave it at a drop off point of your choosing. I warn you, though, should you break the law, I will hand you over to the Sheriff myself. Otherwise, you are free to live here, as long as you uphold the law and cause no one mischief or harm. The only way I will welcome you to my village, is if you seek the Lord and repent of your sins."

She raised up a high pitched wail that resembled the sound of a tea kettle whistling over a fire.

"Let's go," Much said a third time, and this time, Robin led the way out the cave's entrance.

After the two lords had gone, a second female figure stepped from the shadows. The beautiful new Abbess of Kirklees, formerly Isabella of Gisbourne, looked at the witch and said, "I have a feeling we will make a wonderful team."


	6. Chapter 6

"...So Will gets this daft idea to crash the sheriff's party by dressin' us all up in gaudy colored ribbons and playin' music, even though none of us knows how to play a note to save our lives. Not even Djaq knows! So I say to the lads, 'No thanks! I'm not dressin' up in pink ribbons and pretendin' my sword is a flute just to get a piece of the sheriff's cake!' "

Allan a Dale had returned to Locksley with his son, and Ellen and Grace had begged him to tell them more stories about their Daddy when he'd been "Robin Hood".

"Now," Allan continued, making sure Marian hadn't returned from nursing the baby, "Will turned everybody's weapon into something they could play music on, except Little John's big stick. Will figured John could fart so loud, that would be music enough!"

"Fart so loud!" his son repeated, laughing. "Good one!"

"Yeah," Allan continued, "John was good at makin' his farts sound like the beats of a drum!"

"What was Daddy's bow?" Ellen asked, believing every word of Allan's stories, or at least the parts she could understand.

"I don't know. Something with strings. Your da never got a chance to play it though, 'cause the sheriff decided he'd make a better dancer."

"Daddy's a good dancer," Ellen agreed.

"That's just what Vaisey thought. And of course, I show up at the party in a costume of my own, a slick little black number, that made the ladies drop dead at my feet!"

"You killed ladies?" Ellen asked in dismay.

"Naw! They fell for me! You know, they wanted to get their lily white hands on what I had packed in my costume!"

"What had you packed?" Ellen wanted to know.

The boy Allan began laughing so hard, he rolled over in the grass. His father smiled slyly and answered the small girl.

"A birthday present, alright? But it weren't for the king. You're a curious one! Curious as a cat! I can't get to the good part of my story with all your questions. Now, where was I? Oh, right. So, Vaisey takes one look at me and decides to make me and your da have a dance competition, over a bubblin' pool of pitch!

"It was hotter 'en hell, let me tell you! And everybody was watchin', even your mum. She was standin' next to this short bugger named Winchester...special friend of the sheriff's, on account of they both wore the same size clothes.

"It didn't take me long to figure out what was what! Your mum and da had argued, you know how they do, and your mum was battin' her big blue eyes at this Winchester bugger, to make your da jealous. So, I realize how important it was for your da to win the dance contest, to impress your mum and win her back."

"Daddy'd win anyway," Ellen said loyally.

"You've obviously never seen me dance. Well, I start off by doing a few slides, then your da shows off by doing a bit of a jig, and loses his balance and nearly falls in the pitch. That decides your mum, right then and there. She turns to the Winchester bugger, and tells him, 'No more squeezin' my melons, you undersized old flea bitten cur! Robin Hood is the only man for me!' "

The two little girls raised a cheer for their mother, just in time for her to rejoin them.

"It sounds as if you're enjoying the story," Marian said sweetly to her girls. Turning to Allan, she asked, "You haven't told them anything inappropriate, have you?"

"Me? Inappropriate? Naw...I was just telling how I slugged it out with Robin over that pot of pitch at the king's birthday party."

Marian shuddered. "I can't bear to even think of that day, let alone tell the children."

"It all came out alright, though. Besides, I was softenin' it a little, you know, for their tender ears."

Marian gave Allan a grateful smile. "You have a heart of gold under that tarnished exterior," she told him.

"Good thing Vaisey never knew. He'd a'killed me in my sleep, just to get his grubby little paws on it."

"Please don't mention him, either. Some things are better forgotten."

Allan was the first to see the approaching riders. "Here come Robin and Much now. And speakin' of things better forgotten, do you remember how decked out Much was in all the pink colored ribbons that day? Gives me nightmares, just rememberin'."

Marian didn't respond. Ellen's nightmares of the "Black Man" in the forest had thankfully subsided, but Robin was still tortured by flashbacks of Acre. And occasionally, even she suffered from a nightmare of her own. Just the other night, she had dreamed she was Gisbourne's wife. Allan's mention of that dreadful day when the Black Knights had come to Nottingham to sign the sheriff's Pact had triggered the memory of Winchester's bloody body lying crumpled on the grass, fresh from Gisbourne's sword, and Robin's anxious face peering through the foliage, as she rode away from him on the back of Gisbourne's horse.

She outpaced her daughters running to greet her husband. She wanted nothing so much as the feel of his embrace and the assurance that all the evil they had suffered was indeed stamped out and gone forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Robin held Marian's hand as they headed for the Locksley village church. He was seeking Friar Tuck to tell him about the witch Gwyan, and to ask for advice about what, if anything, he should do about her presence in the forest. Robin wanted Marian included in the discussion, for he valued her judgment, especially when things concerned the treatment of women.

Friar Tuck had recently returned to Nottinghamshire after a long absence. Years ago, he had been Marian's and her father's personal confessor, but had departed the shire when Sir Edward was replaced by Vaisey as Sheriff. Tuck had known Robin and Marian for years, and loved them like a true Christian brother. Or, more accurately, like a Christian uncle, for he remembered them as children, and his feelings for them were strongly paternalistic. He was a tender hearted soul, who loved God fiercely, but was out of favor with his fellow Benedictine brothers, for he let his conscience dictate him, rather than the rules of their order. Besides that, he loved "the pleasures of the table," as his rotund belly attested, and was considered a glutton by those who looked down upon him with disfavor. Robin considered him a true friend, and was pleased to install him as the resident friar at Locksley.

Lord and Lady Locksley discovered Tuck on a bench in the church, snoring loudly, sleeping off a heavy noonday meal.

"Good afternoon, Tuck," Robin said, laughing when the friar shot up in surprise, unaware he had dropped off to sleep.

"Master Robin! Lady Marian! Forgive me! I had not meant to sleep! The day is warm, thanks be to our gracious Father, and the hum of bees outside the church must have lulled me to a peaceful slumber."

"Not to mention that heaping platter of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding you just ate. Or was it the couple of tankards of ale you washed it down with?" Robin jested.

Tuck laughed abashedly. "My weakness, I confess. Thank you for wakening me. There is much to do. I must prepare the sacraments for evening mass."

"Before you do that," Marian said, "my husband would like a word with both of us. Do you mind?"

"Mind? Most certainly not!" Tuck hurriedly straightened his cassock and the rope around his expansive middle. Fingering his crucifix from long standing habit, he asked, "What is it, Robin?"

The young lord grew serious. "I need advice," he began, "from both of you." He breathed out a long drawn out sigh, then firmly continued.

"Much and I met a witch in the forest today. Actually, we sought her out, as you know, Marian. And I don't know what to do about her."

Tuck remained silent, but Marian asked, "What do you mean, 'do?' And are you sure she's a witch, Robin? I mean, for years, people have accused Matilda of being one, and she's not."

"This woman's nothing like Matilda, but you mentioning her gives me an idea. I'd like to see Matilda face off with this woman. Maybe force some sense into her."

Tuck remained silent, listening and thinking, his chubby hands folded on top of his belly, fingering his rosary beads.

Robin described the condition of the witch's cave, and the woman herself, leaving out the bits about her rubbing up against him, and her curses.

"She's all alone out there, except for an oversized toad, and she's obviously not in her right mind. I was harsh, forbidding her to come to Locksley unless she confesses her sins and turns away from them, which she won't do, if she's as deranged in her mind as I think." He sighed again. "I don't know how to help her, other than provide for her basic needs, and keep her whereabouts quiet. If the sheriff finds out about her, he'll burn her at the stake."

Tuck groaned aloud, and Marian ventured, "I could go to her and clean up her home. At least get her out of the unhealthy filth you described."

Tuck shook his head. "You are both too kind, and I love you all the better for it. But you are not considering that this Gwyan is living the way she chooses."

"But if she's not right in her mind, and she's not, is she capable of making those choices?" Robin asked with passion. "By God, Tuck, she'd tied dozens of twig people to trees, and accused me of killing her 'children' after I tore them down. Does that sound like someone who can make rational choices?"

Marian took Robin's hand in her own again. Tuck shook his head slowly. "The blood in her cave and decomposing carcasses warn me that she is choosing to practice sorcery, Robin, and has turned her back on our Lord. It comes as no surprise that her mind is addled. You are right that she needs help, but I advise you both to stay clear of her."

Robin and Marian remained quiet, recognizing that Tuck was trying to think. At last, the friar seemed to come up with a solution.

"Your instincts were right, Robin, when you wanted to include Marian in this matter. It will take a woman, as well as a man, to help this Gwyan. But again, I beg of you to step aside, and allow those of us in holy orders to take charge. There is a new Abbess at Kirklees, who is said to be unusually devout. I will go to her, and seek her assistance."

"We've heard she is beautiful," Marian said, "but that she hides her face when outside the Abbey walls."

"So it is said," Tuck vouched. "I have heard she hides her beauty because she wishes to overcome the sin of vanity. Others say she hides her face to prevent men from being tempted by the sight of her."

"I should like to meet that Abbess," Robin grinned, and Marian playfully agreed, "I'd be happy to introduce you. You have need of someone who can teach you something about overcoming vanity, my lord husband."

Robin smiled appreciatively at his wife, his heart lighter for having turned the problem of the witch over to Tuck.


	8. Chapter 8

That evening, seated around the family dining table, Robin fed his son bits of soaked bread and mashed peas, while the baby perched upon his knee. Robin somehow managed to hold his son, feed him, wipe his mouth and chin, feed himself, and listen to Grace retell Allan a Dale's latest tale, all with ease. The only thing that had him stymmied was trying to decide whether to laugh at what his younger daughter was saying, or to find Allan and threaten to cut out his tongue, in semi jest, of course.

"Eat, Gracie," Marian told her chattering toddler.

Grace took the smallest bite of bread and continued her version of the story.

"Edderd, listen! Ladies bumped heads and fell down, trying to get Awan's birfday present. It was a kitty, and he hid it under his shirt."

"No, Gracie!" Ellen corrected.

"A kitty for me. And Awan and Daddy danced on top of pitch, and Daddy almost fell in, and Mama told the bugger, 'No more sqeezing my melons, Cur!' "

"What?" Marian cried.

"She's wrong, Mama," Ellen told her. "There wasn't any kitty in the story."

"I think we've heard quite enough stories for tonight," Marian decided. "Eat your supper, Grace."

She and Robin exchanged amused, questioning looks. They'd heard enough to know Allan had filled their girls' heads with inappropriate language, if nothing else. To hear Gracie use the word "fart" had been bad enough, but hearing her say, "bugger" and refer to squeezing Marian's "melons" told them they'd need to put a stop to Allan's "yarns."

After supper, the entire family took a walk through the village, visiting with other families and ensuring all was well. No one mentioned the witch. In fact, peace and contentment seemed to reign over Locksley.

After a family romp in the yard and a visit to the stables to bid the horses "goodnight," Marian helped Bridget Thornton bathe the girls and get them ready for bed, while Robin gave his son a bath in a basin of warm water. He was the only lord in the whole of England who bathed his own children instead of handing them off to servants, but he wouldn't miss these precious bonding moments for the world.

Edward splashed his father so enthusiastically, Robin's shirt was soaked to his skin. "I guess we'll both be clean," he laughed, wrapping his squirming son in a velvet towel and kissing the top of his head.

He diapered and dressed the baby in a clean linen shirt, gently talking all the while about their day and the day to come. "Now, Little Bear," he said, "after you have the rest of your supper, off to bed you go. You're getting to be a good sleeper, did you know that? I can't tell you how much your mother and I appreciate it! So, let me just put on something dry and we'll head downstairs."

He pulled a clean shirt over his head and found Marian already downstairs waiting for him. Their freshly bathed little girls were dressed in thick nightgowns, their hair damp from their baths, a sight which always brought a contented smile to his lips. Ellen took one hop, pretending she was a "bunny," then remembered to be subdued, but Grace jumped like a frog back and forth across the room, until Robin scooped her up in his free arm and carried her to stand beside Tuck. The jolly fat friar stood waiting by the fireplace to lead the family and servants in their nightly ritual of evening prayers. Marian took Ellen's hand and joined her husband and children, and all bowed their heads and gave thanks for the day, and asked for God's protection over them during the coming night.

With heartfelt sincerity and affection, Robin thanked his servants for their hard work and loyalty, and bid them goodnight. All retired to their warm beds with full bellies and peace in their hearts. And then, he went back upstairs, to put the girls to bed and tell them a suitable story, while Marian nursed Edward before laying him down to sleep in his cradle.

He made certain his story was especially entertaining, to banish Allan's questionable tale from his daughters' heads. Kissing them goodnight, he only needed to return and reprimand Grace three times for crawling from the bed and making noise, before all was still, and he could join his wife in their room.

Marian looked fresh and lovely and alluring in her white linen nightdress, sitting by the glass and combing her luxuriant hair. Just looking at her, Robin felt his stomach tighten and delightful heat spread over his thighs and lower portions. He'd been looking forward to this priceless time alone with his wife all day long. He bolted the door behind him and stood still, watching her.

She placed the comb on the table and stood to face him. "Why so quiet?" she asked, smiling. "You're making me nervous."

"You're just so lovely," he told her, grinning.

They closed the space between them and took their time to enjoy a lingering kiss, then held onto one another as Robin murmured, "I've been thinking all day about that challenge you issued me this morning."

"Have you?"

"Yes I have. So," and he kissed her a bit more urgently, "does that satisfy you?"

"Not yet," Marian answered, enjoying this new game.

He kissed her still more deeply, backing her up until they collapsed onto the bed, where they finished the kiss. "Does that?" he asked again, his eyes twinkling. He kicked off his boots and removed his belt, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Marian's eyes twinkled back at him. "Try again," she invited, removing his shirt.

He kissed her with increasing passion, his hands roaming freely and expertly over her.

"Now?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Yes," she teased. "That suffices. Goodnight." To his surprise, she rolled over onto her side, as if to go to sleep.

For a moment, he was stunned. Then, realizing she had tricked him, he chuckled and leaped onto her, straddling her body. She smiled back at him and pulled him to her. They didn't speak again until hours later, when their peaceful world was turned upside down.


	9. Chapter 9

Husband and wife slept blissfully, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined. They had fallen asleep, happy and exhausted from a highly satisfying day and night. Hours later, it wasn't Baby Edward who awakened them with his crying in the middle of the night. It was two-year-old Grace.

Bridget Thornton, the girls' nurse, knocked repeatedly on the door to her master's and mistress's bedchamber, before Robin, dressed in hastily donned trousers, threw open the door. Marian was sitting up in bed, holding the bedclothes to her throat to hide her nakedness, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"Forgive me, Master Robin, milady," Bridget stammered. "Grace woke up screaming."

"Right," Robin said. Turning to Marian, he guessed, "A nightmare. I'll handle it. Thank you, Bridget."

He quickly made his way to his daughters' room, and once there, picked up Grace and cradled her in his arms. "Gracie," he said soothingly, "it's alright. Shh. Daddy's got you."

Grace's cries lessened from hysterical shrieks to just sniffles. "My Wucy," she cried. "Where's my Wucy?"

Ellen sat up in bed, and Robin sat down beside her, still cradling Grace. "I don't know where Lucy is," he said, looking under the covers for Grace's poppet, "but I'll find her, never fear."

By this time, Marian had joined them as well. Grace took one look at her mother and began crying again, wanting her. Robin handed the little girl to his wife, and Marian commented, "She's warm."

"I think that's just from crying so much," Robin guessed. "Have you seen Lucy?" he asked his wife, scanning the room looking for the well loved rag doll.

"She barely ate her supper," Marian remembered, concerned.

Robin laid a hand on Grace's cheek. "She feels alright," he said. "She just wants her poppet."

"Did she have her when you put her to bed?" Marian asked.

"I assume so. She always does."

"Robin! Did you actually see it?"

He shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't noticed.

Marian sighed. She loved her husband, and in many ways felt he was better with the children than she was, but it was typical of a man not pay attention to important matters like whether or not their child had her favorite plaything when going to bed at night.

"Don't worry, Gracie," Ellen said, "Daddy will find Lucy. He's a hero."

Marian smiled gently. To Grace, she said, "I remember seeing you with Lucy when we played outdoors after supper. Could you have left her outside, Precious?"

Grace thought for a bit, then nodded her head "yes."

"I'll go take a quick look in the yard," Robin decided.

He quickly returned to his room to pull a shirt over his head and step into his boots, then trotted down the stairs and out the main door of his house.

It was a dark night with hardly any moon to see by, and he realized he wouldn't find anything without going back to his house to retrieve a lit torch. Smiling at the thought of himself searching the yard in the middle of the night for his daughter's poppet, he felt aglow with paternal affection, and a bit ridiculous, but in a good way. Before he reached the door, he very nearly tripped over a huge object lying in the grass, between the stables and the house.

"What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, reaching down and feeling something warm and wet and sticky. Lifting his fingers to his nose, he smelled blood, causing him to stagger backwards. He squinted his eyes, and finally managed to make out the figure of a horse lying on its side in the grass.

He ran a few steps and crouched down beside it, trying to judge whether it was alive or dead.

"Thomas! Ian!" Leaping to his feet, he shouted for his manservant and horsemaster. Ian appeared first, but Thomas came bearing a torch.

Robin took it from his young manservant, and slowly waved it above the horse, revealing a grisley sight.

His favorite stallion, Arion, lay dead on the grass, his throat slit, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been cut and rippped out. His testicles and tail were also missing.

Robin stood still in shock, wondering who could have committed such a senseless act of violence. He quickly recovered his outer composure, and told Thomas to fetch shovels. Together, the three men dug a grave and buried Robin's magnificent destrier, before anyone else in the household could witness the horrible spectacle.

He didn't see Grace's doll, nor did he see Marian's garden wilting and withering. Marian herself discovered her flowers dead in the early morning, when she stepped outdoors to look for Grace's Lucy.

Lucy had disappeared, but Grace was past caring. By morning, her fever had climbed so high, she was unaware of anything except the intense burning in her throat.


	10. Chapter 10

Robin hastily tied his horse's reins to a tree and stormed on foot to the door of the witch's cave. The door would not budge, even when he shoved his shoulder against it.

Raising his fist, he pounded on the door, shouting, "Let me in, you hag from Hell!"

The witch Gwyan had been expecting him. She hid the girl child's poppet from sight, as well as the horse's tail, for she had need of them to cast her spells. She had already eaten six bites of the horse's heart when it was fresh and bloody, but the rest of it was boiling now in a brew of rowan berries and birch bark. All she needed was a single hair from Robin of Locksley's head, and she would have the potion she required to make him fall in love with her.

In another pot, the horse's testicles were brewing, for Gwyan believed she could make the lord of Locksley sterile by cooking the testicles of his horse. She wanted to engage in sex with him, but she did not want to bear his child. Nor did she want Marian to conceive ever again.

With the utmost calm, she opened her door. Robin strode past her, into the cave, looking about him for telltale signs of the crimes he believed she had committed.

He was sure she had poured something into the ground to make Marian's garden die, and he believed she had slit Arion's throat and taken his heart, balls, and tail. If for one moment he thought the witch was behind Grace's case of scarlet fever, he would lay his hands on her throat and force her to make his daughter well, or squeeze every last breath from her putrid lungs.

He had left his sick child in the expert care of both Djaq and Matilda, with Marian watching over her, promising to return with all speed after he sorted out who had killed his horse. In truth, he was so distraught over Grace's condition, he needed to take some kind of action, and his anger against the witch had driven him here.

"You have come for a spell?" the witch asked.

"You were at Locksley last night," he accused. "You killed my horse, and destroyed my wife's garden. I have reason to believe you also took my child's doll, though for what sick, evil purpose, I cannot tell."

"You are mistaken," the witch lied. "You forbid me to go to your village. I have no wish to burn, Robin of Locksley. I was not there."

The enormous toad blinked his yellow eyes at Robin. The foul smelling brews from the twin cauldrons masked the tangy stink of the witch's filthy body. The thick smoke and odors were making Robin feel sick. His head was beginning to feel foggy, and he couldn't think straight.

He needed to find proof of her crimes. He wouldn't hand her over to the sheriff to be burned, unless he was certain of her guilt. He refused to shed any more innocent blood.

"Why did you do it?" he asked angrily, taking large strides through the cavern, looking everywhere for Grace's Lucy, the missing parts of his horse, a blood soaked knife...anything! "What did I ever do to you to make you hate me?"

She wanted to accuse him again of killing her children, the twig people he had ruthlessly destroyed, but had enough shrewdness to know better than to give herself away. Instead, she approached him and put her arms around his neck, making certain to entwine her fingers through his hair. He froze.

She was holding him the way his wife so often did, sending unpleasant chills up and down his spine. He took a quick step backwards, freeing himself from her grasp. He felt her tug at his hair, but he didn't care.

What was he doing here? He couldn't find anything to implicate her. He needed to get home and see how his baby girl was faring.

Without a word, he left the cave, untied his horse's reins, and left the forest. Back in his village, he made a quick stop at Old Elspeth's cottage, and picked out a gray kitten with blue eyes from her cat's recent litter to give to Gracie.


	11. Chapter 11

Friar Tuck, out of breath and footsore, ignored his discomfort by keeping up a cheery conversation with his Lord, on his way to Kirklees Abbey.

"And if it wouldn't inconvenience you too much, Father," he said between panting, wheezing breaths, "grant peace to Robin and Marian while You heal their child. Let their hearts be filled with your presence, and know that little Gracie is in Your everloving, healing hands. And please, dear Lord, restore Grace to wholeness. I've known young ones lose their hearing from fever, but please, if it be Your will, don't let that happen to the child.

"She's so full of life! One of your finest creations! Why, only last week, the little rascal hid under the stairs in my oratory, and reached through as I was coming down, grabbing me around my ankle and giving me the fright of my life! I thank You now for helping me keep my tongue and not scold her, for I would be grieved today had I given her the tongue lashing she deserved, Father."

Rounding a steep bend in the road, he stopped and gazed in awe at the beautiful sight before him. Kirklees Abbey stood proudly, its stones glowing golden in the sunlight, amidst a field covered in bluebells. "Thank you, Father, for the gift of sight," Tuck prayed, then leaned on his staff to journey across the carpet of blue to enter the abbey and meet the new abbess, certain he would find a colleague to help him deal with Sherwood's witch.

...

Robin quietly entered the sickroom in his house, where Matilda and Marian watched over little Grace. Djaq and Matilda were taking shifts attending the child, but Marian had barely left her side, except to briefly attend to her other children's needs. But she was neglecting her own needs, and was hungry and exhausted from worry.

Robin didn't ask how their child was. Grace appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Instead, he tiptoed to the bed and placed the soft ball of grey fur on the blanket.

"Robin, a kitten?" Marian asked in surprise.

He stood behind his sitting wife, and began to gently massage her tired, aching shoulders. Marian hadn't realized how sore she was, until he began making her feel better.

"Grace has been asking for a kitten," he replied, sheepishly.

"When?" She closed her eyes and slowly rolled her head, feeling the tension ease from her back and shoulders.

"When she told us Allan's story. Don't you remember?"

Marian opened her eyes and smiled grimly. "You can listen, after all. Much would be jealous."

The kitten, after three or four prancing leaps across the bed, curled up in a tight little ball on the pillow next to Grace's cheek and fell asleep.

"Looks like a match made in Heaven," Robin said to his wife.

"Like us," she smiled, taking his hand and kissing it.

"I'll take over," he offered. "Get some rest, my love."

"I'm fine," she argued.

Matilda spoke up. Her words were harsh, but she wore a motherly smile on her face. "Do as your husband says for once, without arguing, or you'll be no use to anyone. You've two more young ones depending on you, as well as a village, so get out of here and get some rest before I kick you out of here myself, with hobnailed boots! Besides, I want a word with your husband here."

Marian sighed, and rose to go. Robin walked her to the door and kissed her softly. "Hobnailed boots," he repeated, with a slight grin. "So, that's what it takes to get you to listen. Remind me to order a pair from the cobbler."

"Two pair," she teased, giving him that look of challenge he could never resist. They kissed again, and Marian went to check on their other children before getting a bite to eat and a quick nap.

Robin took his wife's seat and gravely asked Matilda, "How is she?"

"Better than I expected. She's a sturdy lass. Stubborn, too, like her parents. I expect she'll come through this without a scratch. But watch those other bairns of yours closely, for signs of infection. Ellen shared the same bed, and she's not built so sturdy as this one."

"She's tough, though," Robin said proudly.

"A skinney child, like her father before her."

"Hey, Matilda!"

"Let's hope she doesn't prove as big a fool when she's grown. Fancy, bringing a live kitten into a sickroom!"

"Would you rather I'd brought a dead one?"

"You've spent too much time around that witch, for you to think up a thing like that to say."

Robin grew serious. Nodding his head, he agreed. "I have spent too much time with her. I've never felt so odd around anyone in my life."

Matilda laid a fresh damp cloth on Grace's forehead, and waited patiently for him to explain.

"I went back to her cave today," he continued. "I don't know what it was...the blood pounding in my ears, or the smoke, or the stench, but something made me feel...I don't know how to describe it. Weak, like my knees were made of jelly."

"Well, knowing you, it wasn't fear. You've not got sense enough to be afraid. Never had. Never will have." Matilda's face shone with pride toward him, turning her insult into a compliment. "More than likely, she had something brewing, putting out fumes in the smoke, which could unman even the finest archer in England."

"Do you think that was it?" he asked, relieved at her explanation.

"I'm sure of it."

Grace stirred, and muttered something unintelligible, then calmed and slept peacefully again.

Matilda said, "When your little one is well, I'd like you to take me to this witch, Robin. I know all about their ways and potions. I'll drive her from Sherwood, if I feel it necessary."

"That," Robin said, his eyes twinkling happily, "sounds like a plan."

"Daddy," Grace croaked, waking up. Then, spotting the kitten, she smiled and cried, "A kitty! A kitty for me!"

"He's all yours," Robin grinned, a tear spilling from his eye. "You need to get well, so you can torment him, alright? Will you do that for me, Gracie?"

"I love my kitty," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur.

"Looks like good medicine, after all," Matilda smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

"Whoa! What happened to your flowers? More fairy magic?"

Allan a Dale was met outside Locksley Manor by Marian, who warded him off from entering, due to the risk of infection within.

Marian was getting some well needed fresh air. She balanced Edward on her right hip, and watched as Ellen ran about playing in the yard with Will and Djaq's twins.

"You may not be far from wrong," she told him sadly, inviting him to sit on an outside bench, then sitting herself. "Black magic, people are saying."

"You don't mean, like witchcraft?" he asked nervously.

"That's exactly what I mean, though Robin and I feel certain there's a rational explanation." She sighed, and shifted Edward onto her knee, then smiled at her son as she gently bounced him up and down. "We just don't know what it is yet."

"You know what'll get your flowers bloomin' again, don't you?" Allan asked.

Marian gave him a bemused smirk. "And you do? Since when has Allan a Dale been a gardner?"

"Oi! I've done my share of sowing seed in virgin soil."

"Spare me your naughty jests."

"I've planted along many a narrow furrow."

"There are children's ears close by!"

"I've guided many a well used hoe..."

"That's quite enough!"

Allan was pleased to have brought a smile back to Marian's lips. When he'd first arrived, he found her looking uncommonly worn and strained.

"Not bein' funny," he advised, "but all you do is spread horse manure all over the ground, and you'll have enough daisies to pick the petals off of, wondering if Robin loves you or loves you not, till the cows come home. And speakin' a cows, spread a bit of their manure down as well. You can never have too much sh-manure," he said, correcting his language at the last minute. "Unless, of course, you're samplin' Much's squirrel meat for the first time. Lord! How that gave us all the runs!"

Marian gave him what Robin referred to as "one of her reproving stares." Of course, Allan was immune to it.

"Your wife must find you a charming conversationalist," she commented, expertly changing the subject. "Why don't you ever bring her here to see us?"

"I would, if she weren't so nervous. But Robin won't let her call him 'My lord,' so she doesn't know what to say. I told her, 'Just call him Dollop Head, like everyone else does.' But she cuffed me and said I was bein' disrespectful."

"She cuffed you?"

"Yeah. Can you believe it?"

"Good for her."

Yes, Allan thought to himself, his visit was just what Marian needed to lift her spirits. And if Marian's spirits were raised, than Robin's would be, too. Now, if only their little girl would get better, Allan knew they could handle anything. At least anything out of the realm of Black Magic.

In spite of the warm spring sunshine, Allan a Dale shivered.

...

Friar Tuck was escorted by a plain, sour faced Holy Sister into an outer chamber of the Abbess of Kirklees' private rooms. He found himself confused when the old nun bobbed a curtsey befitting one reserved for royalty before departing. He turned his attention to the Abbess.

The new abbess appeared slender and petite, even under her habit. She stood with a proud and elegant carriage, but he could not see her face, for it was veiled.

Tuck could feel her eyes studying him intently, which frankly made him nervous. He guessed it was the veil that unnerved him.

"How-how-how do you do, Mother?" he began, stammering like Much. "Forgive my intrusion. I am Friar Tuck, now of Locksley village. I have come to enlist your aid-"

"Locksley village?" She interrupted in a noblewoman's voice, clipped and cultured and somewhat low in tone. "Did I hear you say 'Locksley?' "

"Yes, Mother." Friar Tuck released a nervous laugh, which he found difficult to suppress. "Forgive me again," he said. "Perhaps if I could see your face, we could better talk. Trust me, I am well past the age to succumb to the temptation of a pretty face."

"Obviously, you do not see fit to deny all your temptations, do you, Brother? Under our illustrious King John, when many go hungry, you clearly have plenty to eat."

Friar Tuck cleared his throat, and nervously released gas. Shifting back and forth on his portly legs, he made the excuse, "The village where I live is prosperous. The Lord and Lady of the Manor see to it that everyone living there has plenty to eat."

"Is that so?" the abbess responded, in a surprisingly bitter tone. "How very interesting. I should like to visit your village, and meet these benevolent nobles."

To Tuck's relief, she removed the veil hiding her face.

By anyone's standards, she was indeed beautiful, yet Tuck felt the veil was unnecessary. She couldn't hold a candle to Marian, Tuck thought, though he guessed he was biased, being so fond of Lady Locksley as he was.

The abbess was blessed with beautiful blue eyes, fine cheekbones, a straight nose, and lovely white teeth. Her lips were thin, her complexion adequate, but it was her eyes the friar could not dismiss. They stared back at him boldly, with intelligence, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite discern.

He almost wished she hadn't removed her veil. For some reason, he grew even more nervous, staring back into those piercing eyes.

At once, their expression shifted, growing softer, and he relaxed and found himself at ease in her presence.

"Tell me, Brother," she said kindly, "what aid do you seek from me?"

"Well, Mother," he began, "there is a witch whom we suspect has done horrible things..."


	13. Chapter 13

"Farewell, good Friar," said the beautiful new Abbess of Kirklees, as Friar Tuck shuffled toward her door. "I am so pleased we met. You were wise to alert me to the presence of the witch. We must investigate together, to see whether we can help the poor unfortunate soul, and turn her toward the Lord. For I fear it shall be the flames for her, if she does not repent."

"Either in this life, or the next, sadly," the fat friar sighed. "Goodbye, Mother."

Isabella of Gisbourne, secretly Kirklees' new Abbess, remained perfectly still until she could no longer hear the annoying friar's footsteps shuffling down the cloister. When all was still, she picked up a water jug and hurled it against the door.

"Idiot!" she shrieked.

She was furious at the witch. The overweight do gooder whom she'd just met had told her about the recent events at Locksley, causing Isabella to spit venom. Gwyan was not following her commands!

Isabella felt her plan couldn't be any more simple. Get Robin of Locksley to take pity on the witch, and try to help her, then condemn him and his wife as witches as well. Isabella hadn't decided whether she'd actually let Robin burn at the stake...that would be up to him. She'd watch Marian burn, and enjoy the spectacle. But she just might give Robin a reprieve, if he agreed to become her paramour again. Or her husband. Surely he wouldn't refuse, when faced with the choice of burning, or marrying her.

But now, the witch had chosen her own methods, and had made Robin her enemy, by killing his horse. Isabella would need to rethink her plan, and find another way to implicate him and his wife as witches. She set her mind to solving the problem, and before very long, she smiled slyly, as she began to devise a new plan.

...

Thankfully, little Grace had recovered from her illness, and was going to bed once again in the room she shared with her sister. Robin finished telling his daughters their bedtime story, and kissed both girls goodnight.

"More kitty story," Grace begged.

Surprisingly, her father didn't tell her "no" tonight. He grinned, and drew back his chair to their bedside, straddled it backwards, facing the bed, and tried his best to retell the story he had just made up especially for his girls.

The story was even better the second time, and it sent Ellen into fresh fits of giggles, but little Gracie was soon asleep.

"Daddy, who tells Edward stories?" Ellen asked, as he brushed his lips across her forehead for a second goodnight kiss.

"Well, I do. And you and Grace and your mother. That's the benefit of being the baby, I guess. More people to tell you stories."

Ellen thought hard for a moment. Discounting the second part of his answer, she commented sleepily, "Daddy, you're like Father Christmas, or God."

"How so, Boo?" he asked, his eyes twinkling from such praise.

"You're everywhere at once." She closed her eyes and tucked her tiny hands under her cheek, and drifted off to sleep.

Robin stood still, gazing almost awestruck at the sight of his two precious daughters sleeping peacefully side by side, safe and well.

He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Then chuckling, he put his chair against a wall, and swaggered from the room.

"Now, Tuck," he muttered under his breath, beginning an imaginery conversation with the nonpresent friar, "how am I supposed to learn humility, as you advise, when my own offspring compares me to Father Christmas, or God?"

His proud eyes scanned his house, as he made a quick round throughout to make sure all was well before heading toward his own bedchamber. "She makes a good point. I have been known to seem to be everywhere at once." He thought for an instant of the Battle of Acre, then let his mind dwell a bit longer on some of his exploits as an outlaw.

His swagger slackened, as he recalled the recent barbaric attack on his home. "Looks like I'm going to need that skill again, watching over Locksley," he thought.

Now that Grace was well, he could focus his mind on Arion's ghastly death, and he was heartsick and angry.

He pushed open the door to his room, to find Marian sitting in the candlelight, still fully clothed, holding Grace's kitten on her lap. His lovely wife was stroking it gently between its ears, and singing softly.

The sight brought the smile back to his face. "Your secret's out, Lady Locksley," he teased, barring the door behind him.

"What secret?"

As he began to shed his clothing, he was reprimanded by his wife. "Robin, not on the floor! You lavish care upon your weapons, but toss your clothes aside as though they were straw! How did Much put up with you all those years?"

Dutifully, he laid his belt, jerkin, shirt, stockings, trousers and undergarment over the back of a chair, then stretched out naked on the bed. "He liked taking care of me," he answered smugly.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled back at him. "What secret?" she asked again.

He chuckled, grinning boldly at her, proud of himself, as usual. "You always claimed you hated cats."

"Well," she said, tearing her eyes from him to look at the kitten, "perhaps I've changed my mind. It's my perogative as a woman, you know. Besides, who could hate Moonlight?"

"Moonlight? I thought his name was Kitty."

"Grace calls him Kitty. I prefer Moonlight."

"Good plan. Confuse the cat."

"You're not confused, and you go by two names."

"Me? What two names?" He was instantly suspicious, knowing she was about to "zing" him.

"Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington and Hero of Acre, Champion of the Poor, Formerly Robin Hood, outlaw of Sherwood-"

"That's more than one name in itself. What's the other, Marian? Come on, tell me."

She rose and gently placed the kitten on a bed of blankets she had fashioned for it, in a corner of their room.

"Dollop Head," she answered simply.

Robin rolled onto his back, laughing. "Get over here and come to bed," he grinned. "Lady Dollop Head."

Marian didn't even seem to notice that she left her own clothes in a pile on the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

Lying blissfully in her husband's strong arms, Marian was enjoying the warm, loving, tingling sensation of his tender, soft kisses after just having tasted his intensely heated passionate ones.

"I love you, Marian," Robin murmured, smiling, then kissing her gently again.

"I love you, too," she answered breathlessly back, tickling the back of his neck with her fingertips, and kissing him over and over, as if she could never get enough.

"Robin," she murmured at last, watching the candle flames sputter and burn out, "if you don't mind, I'd like to try again."

Her head was resting on his heart, and he stopped stroking her hair for a moment, in surprise.

"Again? Alright! Just give me a moment to catch my breath."

Marian gasped, then giggled. "No! I mean, my garden! I'd like to replant it, unless you think it's wasteful or foolhardy to try."

Robin chuckled, amused by his mistake. "Sorry," he said, coloring up to his ears. "Your garden...yes! By all means, Marian, plant away! I got used to seeing all that loveliness outside my door every morning."

"Rubbish!" she replied. "You were nothing short of bewildered by all the flowers."

"I was referring to the sight of the gardner and her two young assistants," he quipped, winking at her. "The flowers, I could take or leave."

She smiled and sighed, letting her fingers play absentmindedly across his chest, while her head sang with plans of rose bushes and daisies, violets and nasturtiums, morning glories, daffodils and bluebells.

"Plant some catnip, while you're at it, for Moonbeam," Robin suggested.

"Moonlight," she corrected.

"Whatever it is, you look gorgeous in it," he told her, kissing her softly again.

...

Marian had fallen asleep, with images of her garden dancing through her thoughts, but Robin lay stiffly beside her, too angry to sleep.

The talk of her garden, so pleasant to Marian, brought his feelings of fury and inadequacy to the surface again. He still suspected the witch of killing and maiming his horse, and destroying Marian's garden. Much also attributed Grace's recent illness to the foul Gwyan, but Robin dismissed that as superstition.

It would be easy if Gwyan were a man. He'd have no qualms charging into a man's den and fighting it out until he uncovered the truth. But a woman...even one so disgusting and odd as Gwyan, deserved to be treated with chivalry. He couldn't charge into her home and upturn her property, looking for proof of her treachery. If she were innocent, what a cad he would be!

Nor could he do nothing, and merely wait for her to strike again, in the hope of catching her red handed. He wasn't made for waiting.

Tuck had told him he'd had a productive visit with the Abbess at Kirklees, and that she had agreed to help him either turn the witch to good, or send her on her way, out of the shire. But talk wasn't enough to satisfy Robin tonight.

Unable to sleep, he rose from his bed and dressed, then descended the staircase and told his servant Ralph, who was keeping watch during the night, to tell Her Ladyship when she awoke to not worry, that he would return shortly.

Not wishing to wake Daniel, the stable boy, Robin saddled his own horse and rode away, missing the companionship of his loyal friend, Much.

He rode hard as a way to release his pent up anger, then drew rein at a fork in the road.

Which way? Into the forest, to confront the witch? Or on to Kirklees, to meet the Abbess and judge for himself whether she could truly be of help?

Whichever direction he chose tonight, one thing was certain. He needed to keep Marian out of it.

Deciding it was far too late to meet the Abbess, he steered Apollo toward the forest and the witch's cave.

His visit to the Abbess would have to wait until morning.


	15. Chapter 15

Marian awoke to a new day alone in her bed, which wasn't unusual. Robin was rarely still, and was often up and about before she ever opened her eyes. Those rare mornings when she awoke first frequently meant her husband had been up late or up during the night, or twice, upsettingly, it had meant he had been ill.

Dawn was just breaking, so Marian knew she had the luxury to lie abed a few moments to plan her day. Grace's illness had forced her to wean Edward from her breast sooner than Marian had wished, but he had transitioned well to goat's milk. And Marian had to admit, it was lovely to finally shed the last bit of "baby fat" and regain her former levels of energy.

Now, she was thinking, wouldn't it be pleasant to have the entire family ride to Nottingham? It was Wednesday, Market Day, and they could all go together to purchase seedlings and plants and bulbs for her garden. Not to mention, Edward needed new clothes, he was growing so quickly. She could purchase fabric, and maybe something in soft colors for Easter gowns for the girls, and then see if she could find the goodwife from whom Robin had originally purchased Grace's "Lucy," and purchase a replacement poppet. And if Grace got a new poppet, then Ellen should get one, too. She'd been so sweet about her little sister getting a kitten, after all.

Marian sat up to look toward the corner where she'd made a bed of blankets for "Moonlight." The kitten wasn't there. "That's what comes of Robin choosing a male," she thought, smiling. "Up and roaming before the sun."

Her eyes flew to the untidy pile of clothing she had shed and left on the floor last night. She mustn't do that ever again! Why did she lose all sense of reason, just because her husband told her to come to bed? She knew why, and smiled deliciously at the thought.

But it was time she was up. She rose from the bed now to pick up her mess, but stopped when she spied the kitten curled up asleep on her gown. "Oh, you sweet kitty," she sighed, and let him sleep.

She washed and dressed and held Moonlight in one arm while she tidied up last night's discarded clothing, then went in search of her husband.

...

"Thornton," Marian asked Locksley's aged Reeve, "where is my lord husband this morning?"

"I am not sure, milady," Thornton replied. "Ralph said he rode off on Apollo just before midnight, saying that you mustn't worry, that he would return."

Marian's mouth snapped shut and her eyes flashed. "That is all he said?" she asked, incredulously. "Where is Ralph?"

"Here, milady." The middle aged former soldier stepped forward respectfully.

Marian tried her best to keep her voice level. "Ralph," she began, "did my husband give you any idea where he was going, or when he would return?"

"No, milady. He only said for you not to worry. That he would-"

"-Be back, yes." Marian's eyes darted about, while she tried to focus her thoughts.

"Did something happen last night to cause him to go?" she asked Ralph, searching for an explanation. "A summons, or, God forbid, another attack on the house?"

"No, milady. All was still."

Marian balled up her fists and squeezed the folds of her gown, in impotent frustration.

"Tell Ian to saddle Llamrei while I give the cook instructions." Marian turned and ran toward the kitchen before Ralph or Thornton could bat an eye.

After issuing quick instructions for today's meals, and packing a small loaf of bread and a slice of cheese for herself, Marian dashed up the stairs to kiss her children goodbye. The girls were still asleep, but the baby was up, so Marian had to content herself with speaking to Bridget, the nurse, and kissing Edward only.

Her mind was racing, flipping over all the possibilities of Robin's likely whereabouts. No one, including herself, had any clue at all last night that he would ride away and not return by morning. In fact, last night, with Grace fully recovered, he had been in high spirits, playful and loving and carefree. Something must have happened to cause him to ride off!

She ran back down the stairs, out the door, and climbed into the saddle, onto Llamrei's broad back.

"Milady," Thornton asked worriedly, "where, may I ask, are you going?"

"To find Robin!" she answered, wheeling her horse around and galloping away.


	16. Chapter 16

Waking from a drug induced sleep, Robin groaned and struggled against his bonds.

He had no idea where he was, or even who he was. He only knew his head was splitting, and his buttocks were sore from sitting on the floor of a dank, smelly cave. His wrists and ankles were bound by thick ropes and tied to iron chains embedded in the cave's wall, and every muscle in his body ached. Fighting back the urge to vomit, he squinted his eyes and looked around him, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and remember.

An enormous toad, perched atop a rickety wooden table, blinked yellow watery eyes at him, and spiders scampered across his thighs, and over his arms and chest, across his shoulders and down his back. He shivered and sweated at the the same time, as if he suffered from fever.

He was dressed only in a pair of well fitting brown trousers and dark brown boots, which appeared to be of excellent quality.

He stared down at his torso, surprised to see it scarred, as if from former battles.

"Whoever you are, you've survived worse than you're in now," he told himself, speaking in the third person because he felt so distant from his identity.

"Think, think, think," he urged himself, searching for his name.

A heavy wooden door, forged across the cave's entrance, creaked open, emitting daylight, a fresh breeze, and the silhouette of a woman. The light made his head throb behind his eyes, but the breeze was refreshing, and he swallowed large gulps of air, then buckled over in a fit of coughing. Bile rose in his throat, and he turned his head and vomited on the floor beside him, then closed his eyes and let his head hang, exhausted.

"Forgive me for not cleaning up after myself," he managed to say. "It's a bit difficult, trussed up here like a pig."

The woman didn't speak, but wiped at his vomit with a man's white shirt he guessed was his, then tossed it into a corner of the cave when she had finished.

"Let me guess," he ventured. "Food for bats?"

Still, she didn't speak, but eyed him intently, so he studied her as well, hoping something he would see might jog his memory.

She seemed as filthy as her cave, and he guessed she was a witch, judging from the surroundings. Chipped bowls containing pestles and various colored powders littered her table, and hairy roots and dried plants and mushrooms filled the cave. A horse tail was tacked up on the back of the door, which made him feel especially uneasy, and inexplicably angry. And everywhere were bat droppings, dried blood, cobwebs and carcasses.

The woman herself was nothing short of confusing. He couldn't tell whether she was young or old, for her hair was completely silver, and shone beautifully in the firelight, though it hung in greasy locks down her back. Her hands were wrinkled and bent, her neck stringy, but he found her face unlined and beautiful, until he looked into her dark eyes, which were cold and lifeless.

He didn't look away, even when she unlaced her loose gown and let it drop to the floor. Her body was not that belonging to an old woman, but it held no allure for him.

A flash, an image appeared for an instant in his mind, the image of a beautiful young woman, dark haired, blue eyed, full breasted and perfect, but scarred as he was across her abdomen. "Mary?" His mind struggled to remember. And then, "Wren," he recalled, convinced yet still confused.

The image gave him hope, for he knew whomever she was, she was his own true love. He only hoped he wasn't too late, and that she wasn't dead.

And then he was certain she was, for he remembered her gazing up lovingly at him as she lay upon the sand with a sword through her belly. Hope died. Sorrow reigned.

The witch, naked and grimey under her breasts, squatted down beside him. He turned his face away, ready to vomit again.

"You look like an arrow," she said at last, in a voice unused to speech.

He stopped himself from flinching when her dirty nails scratched his chest. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"This is the fletching," she croaked, scraping her fingernails through the triangle of hair on his chest, "and this the arrow shaft." She pressed one bony finger down the middle of his hard torso, stroking the thin line of hair descending from chest downward, past his belly button, down, down, down.

"An arrow," he kept thinking, remembering a priceless recurved bow and himself firing shot after shot, never missing, fighting back his body's natural reaction to her touch, repulsive to him yet undeniably gifted.

The door sprang open, flooding the cave with daylight and fresh air again. This time, two figures stood silhouetted against the light.

"Naked! Unbelievable! That is revolting!" A male voice, familiar and welcome since childhood. A savior of sorts. A true and loyal friend.

And then a female voice, the voice of his dead beloved, he was certain, determined and warm, yet chillingly icy, too.

"Take your filthy hands off my husband!"

Everything went black as he passed out.


	17. Chapter 17

"Much," Marian said quickly, "help me get him outside."

While the witch uttered curses and high pitched screams, Much used his sword to slice through Robin's bonds, and helped Marian drag his body to the cave's mouth.

"What do you have, Marian?" Much asked.

"Lucy," she answered bitterly. "This witch not only captured my husband, she stole Grace's poppet! How dare you?" she cried, striding to Gwyan and slapping her hard across her face. "This proves you were at Locksley. You killed my husband's horse!"

"Let's go, Marian!" Much cried. "Let's get Robin out of here!"

With great difficulty, they managed to lift Robin and heave his body, face down, over the back of Much's horse. Marian loosened Apollo's reins from the tree where Robin had tied him, and shouted him away.

"He'll find his way home," she explained. "We can't lead him, and the other horses, too."

"We'll be back," Much swore to the witch.

"And you will pay for what you've done," Marian added, her own face turning nearly as ashen as her husband's in her concern for him.

...

Robin awoke in a large, comfortable bed, in an elegant room of a manor house. Three adjoining windows opened to a gentle breeze, and the sounds of cows mooing, birds singing, and children playing below greeted his ears.

He blinked his eyes and focused them on a vision of loveliness, gazing down at him from worried crystal blue eyes.

"Robin," the vision breathed, and smiled, somehow making her lovelier still.

Robin...was that his name? Must be. Curious he didn't remember. He felt at such a loss. He couldn't seem to remember anything, except a disgusting witch in her filthy cave, about to seduce him. Until this angel appeared, with her friend. Where was the friend now, he wondered.

As if reading his thoughts, the man approached his bedside.

"You're alive!" the man cried. "I knew you were alive! What I meant to say was, you're awake! About time, too, I might add. You gave us quite a fright. Don't do that again, do you hear me?"

Robin looked at the man with questioning eyes. The way he went on and on about nothing made his head hurt worse than it already did.

There was a third figure in the room, watching over him. A middle aged woman with a wrap around her dark hair, and a glint in her eye. This woman busied herself now with removing a damp cloth from his forehead, and peering into his eyes, ears, and mouth.

"There," she told the other two. "Now he's awake, out with you for a minute. I want a word alone with young Locksley here."

The lovely, dark headed angel gently brushed her rose petal lips against his mouth and stroked his cheek with her soft fingers, then smiled lovingly at him again. Whoever he was, he must have done something incredible to make her love him!

"I'll be right back, dear," she told him. "Are you up for seeing the children?"

Children?

The older woman shooed her away. "Don't even think of bringing your noisy bairns in here, until his head stops pounding! There will be time enough for them, once he's better. Now, out with both of you!"

Robin was confused to watch the two young people smile fondly at the woman and obey her orders. They were dressed in simple finery, yet this woman was garbed in tattered homespun cloth. Why would they follow her barking orders? Nothing made sense.

"So," the woman was saying, "you forgot all about our arrangement, did you?"

He'd forgotten far more than their "arrangement," but he didn't say so.

"You didn't think to include me in your visit to the witch, even after we agreed, but went dashing off, in the middle of the night, alone, I might add! God's saints, Robin! What were you thinking? If your head weren't already hurting worse than King John's gouty leg, wouldn't I knock you on the side of it!"

He glared distastefully at her, wondering if she were his mother to upbraid him so.

"You know what your problem is, don't you?" she continued.

"Right now, it would appear to be you."

"Ah! He speaks! Lord preserve us!" She humphed, but straightened his blankets, efficiently.

"You, young Locksley," she scolded, wagging a finger at him in her continued onslaught of insults, "are stuffed full of pride. That's right! There's no sense denying it. Your arrogance very nearly cost you your reason, if you'd stayed a slave much longer in that filthy cave! And you'd only have yourself to blame, if it happened, thinking you could confront that Gwyan all alone! Pish posh!"

Robin narrowed his eyes and stared daggers at her.

"Don't you give me that look!" she cried. "That's your other big failing, you know. That temper of yours has brought you more trouble than the number of lice in a Frenchman's beard! So don't go looking at me like that, after I gave up precious time with my granddaughter today, just to attend to you!"

He held her gaze, growing more and more angry, but was taken completely by surprise when she bent over him and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.

"It's good to have you back, Robin," she said, sparking a flicker of memory. There was something basic he should speak in return, but he couldn't find the exact words.

"Rest easy," she said affectionately. "I'll send in your lady."

He watched her turn and walk out the door.

His lady? He thought the dark haired angel was his wife! Hadn't she mentioned children? His head swam anew.

The angel...Mary? reenterred the room, ushering in the faintest scent of rose petals. She sat down on the side of his bed and placed a soft hand over one of his calloused ones.

"You're safe, now, my love," she told him in a voice like rich music. "Is there anything I can bring you?"

"No," he said. And then suddenly, "Yes. A glass. I want to see what I look like."

The angel smiled, and rose to bring him a hand held mirror. "Very well, Sir Vanity. Feast your eyes. You'll find you're looking every bit as handsome as ever."

Robin took the mirror from her hand and studied his reflection. He was extremely pleased at what he saw! No wonder he'd won such a beautiful lady! Whatever children they had together must be absolutely gorgeous!

Even so, the sight of his face did nothing to help him remember. He handed the mirror back to the lady.

"There," she said, sitting beside him again on the bed and gently brushing the bangs off his forehead, "you haven't been conjured into a frog, or any such thing. You're just your own precious, conceited self."

She stretched out beside him on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling close. He stiffened.

She felt him do so, and sat up. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Are you sore, or nauseous? Shall I fetch Matilda again?"

"No," he hastened to explain. "It's just...Forgive me, milady, but I don't know who you are."

The angel opened her mouth and uttered a small gasp of surprise.


	18. Chapter 18

"You don't know who I am?" Marian asked Robin, in disbelief.

"Forgive me, milady, but it's true. I can't remember anything, not even my own name. That's the reason I asked you for a glass. I wasn't being vain; I just didn't know what my face looks like."

Marian stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and uttered, "Oh, you poor dear! Oh, Robin!"

"Would you mind telling me a few details, please, milady? Who I am and who you are, and what is our relationship? I fear my head can only handle a few bits of information right now."

Marian looked at him with enormous sympathy and caring concern. "Of course, sweetheart! You are Sir Robin of Locksley, lord of this manor and the Earl of Huntington. You fought alongside King Richard in the Holy Land. Do you remember? And you stood up to an evil sheriff and became an outlaw, living in the forest for years, and people called you Robin Hood."

Nothing she said meant anything to him, other than the fact he had been a soldier and was now an earl. He didn't like the part naming him an outlaw.

"I'm not an outlaw any more, it would seem," he commented, looking at the rich furnishings in the bedchamber. "Was I pardoned?"

"Yes!" she cried, thinking he remembered. "We all were."

"We? Don't tell me you were an outlaw, too?"

"I was," she said proudly. "We robbed the rich to help the poor."

He smiled, making her glad. "I like the sound of that. Wish I could remember it."

"You will, I'm sure of it."

"You're..." He gulped. "You're lovely, if you don't mind me saying so. Please tell me, are we married? This must be hard on you. It's very awkward for me, milady."

"Please stop calling me 'milady,' " she said gently. "It makes me nervous, thinking you're up to something."

She gasped again, smiled, then playfully slapped his hand. "You are up to something! Very funny, Robin! You had me going!"

Her smile drained when he didn't laugh in return or shoot her his cocky grin. He merely stared at her with puppy dog eyes.

"I do not joke," he told her sadly. "I really can't remember."

She sighed. "I'm sorry I slapped you then. It didn't hurt, did it?"

"You couldn't hurt me," he said, with a touch of his former arrogance.

"Oh, couldn't I?" she asked. "You'd be surprised!"

He liked her underlying fire. In fact, he liked everything about her. His mind might not remember her, but his body hadn't forgotten. He shifted in the bed, wishing he could plunge into a cold stream and put out the fire she had ignited in his loins.

Luckily, she resumed her explanations. "My name is Marian," she told him. It felt so odd to tell him her name, as if they were meeting for the first time.

"Marian," he repeated. "I kept thinking, 'Mary,' and then, 'Wren,' like the bird."

"You used to call me 'Wren,' when we were small," she explained.

"I knew you when we were small?"

"Yes, and loved me, too, though it took you forever before you ever told me. We were childhood sweethearts. We're married now, after years of struggle."

"I think I must be a very lucky man," he said shyly.

She smiled at him. He was being really sweet. "I'm the lucky one," she admitted. "You're a wonderful husband, and father."

"How many children?" he asked, grinning his old familiar grin.

"Three. Two girls and a boy. Two others, dead."

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. It had appeared hard on her to mention the lost children.

He wished he could share in her sorrow, but he didn't feel anything, other than the feelings he would have when learning of a stranger's loss. For now, he was a stranger to himself, and to Marian as well.

"The children are missing you," she mentioned. "Do you think you're up to seeing them?"

Meeting them, rather, he thought. He didn't feel up to deceiving them, pretending he hadn't changed from their loving father, but he didn't want to disappoint this beautiful woman who was his wife. She'd already stirred his heart, and he felt himself falling in love with her.

"Show them in, please."

Marian felt she could easily get used to his manners.


	19. Chapter 19

Robin's heart felt near to bursting at the sight of the beautiful "Mary-Wren" reentering their bedchamber with a baby boy balanced on her right hip and a little girl holding onto her left hand. This was his family! Why couldn't he remember? He'd need to put on a show, so as to not upset the little girl. But wait a moment. Marian had mentioned three children. Where was the third?

Before his family could reach his bed, a tiny flash of gray shot across the room, followed by a squealing toodler, clutching a poppet he had seen in the witch's cave.

"Kitty, kitty, kitty, Daddy!" the little one cried, stopping her pursuit of the now invisible kitten to boost herself up on his bed and plop herself onto his lap.

"It must be a chore in itself to keep the kitten separated from..." Robin indicated Grace to Marian with his eyes.

His wife lifted her eyebrows and peered back at him with an amused expression. "I guess you should have thought of that _before_ you gave her the kitten."

"I gave it to her?" he asked, with the first twinkle in his eyes Marian had seen since he'd returned. "What a fool you must have married, mila-Marian."

She let that comment go, but stored it in her memory to tease him with after his memory returned.

The entire family piled onto his bed, and he found himself overwhelmed by the feelings in his heart. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Marian quickly said, "We need to let Daddy get some rest. He's ill, but he's getting better, just as Grace did. We can all visit later."

Robin looked at her thankfully. He needed to be alone, to sort through his thoughts. This was all too much.

Both little girls planted wet, slobbery kisses on his cheeks, and as he watched his wife usher the children out the door, he changed his mind and begged, "Could you return, right away, please, milady?"

Like the angel he thought her, she nodded her head, indicating "yes."

...

Marian returned almost immediately, and Robin apologized, "I'm truly sorry. They're not hurt, are they?"

"No, of course not," she replied gently, bothered to see him so humble. "They just wanted to see you. Grace recently got over being sick, so they understand, and only want to see you better."

That was what she longed for, as well. In truth, Robin's saddened expression and his awkwardness around their children had really upset her. But he needed her to be strong now, so she summoned her courage and hid her unhappiness.

Neither knew what to say to the other. Marian began to feel more and more uncomfortable, as his silence dragged on and his behavior grew more and more distant.

No! She would break through that wall and find her Robin again! A sudden burst of inspiration made her hand him his Saracen bow.

"Does this spark any memories?" she asked, hopefully.

He held it almost reverently in his hands. Muscle memory had not been lost, only cerebral, so he gripped the bow correctly, then ran his sensitive fingertips up and down the bowstring.

"It feels...right," he said simply, moved by the feel of it. "Thank you."

There was another awkward pause, and Marian's impatience for him to be well conquered her sense of reason and propiety. She needed for him to recognize her, to truly know her again.

"Are you hurting any more?" she asked, boldly, angry now at his condition.

"Not any more, milady. Why?"

"How does _this_ feel, then?" she demanded to know, putting aside his bow and climbing onto her knees to straddle his lap, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling his mouth to hers.

"And I told you not to call me 'milady,' " she added, before kissing him hard again.


	20. Chapter 20

"Now do you remember me?" Marian challenged Robin, releasing him from kisses that had been nothing short of forceful.

"I certainly won't ever forget you again," he quipped, grinning devillishly back at her.

She breathed out an exasperated sigh, climbed off his lap, and tried another ploy.

Striding across the room, she raised a hand to indicate a magnificent tapestry picturing a fanciful map of Camelot, painstakingly woven and embroidered by Robin's mother years before.

"Do you see this hanging?"

"Yes."

"I made it. I made all the hangings in this house."

"It would seem you are a woman of multiple talents," he replied, still sporting that devastating grin of his. "So, milady," he suggested, using the term purposefully this time to provoke her, "why don't you come back here and try to kiss me better some more? I promise to be much more fun than wielding an embroidery needle."

"Don't you remember anything about me?" she cried.

Her obvious frustration caused him to drop his wheedling charm and grow serious with her.

"There is one thing I think I recall," he confessed to her.

At once, she ran to him and sat on the bed. "One memory can spark more," she said hopefully. "What do you remember, Robin?"

With sympathetic eyes looking deeply into hers, he told her, "You're scarred." His voice was warm and kind, yet tinged with sorrow and regret. "Across your abdomen. You were wounded and scarred, like me. Who could have done that to you?" he cried, suddenly angry and protective.

Marian didn't immediately respond. She sat silently beside him, her mouth slightly open, staring at him in disbelief.

Finally, her voice low with anger, she managed to say, "That is all you remember? My hideous flaws?"

His temper flared up to meet hers, as if her reaction to his confession had sparked a fire within him. "Do you think I like lying here helpless in this bed not knowing I am?" he cried, accusingly. "Not knowing who you are? Not even knowing my own flesh and blood? Can you even imagine what it feels like to hold your child in your arms, and not recognize her? It's not as if I had a choice what memories I have."

He blinked his eyes several times rapidly. Words, a saying, lay just beneath the darkness in his mind, trying to push their way to the surface. A choice...something about a choice. Something she had taught him. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the words retreated, sinking to the bottom of the sludge that was now his memory.

He looked at the woman, the remarkable woman who was somehow his wife, feeling more and more in love with her for the emotions that had passed between them in this room, and was sorry for his temper.

"Forgive me," he asked her, staring contritely into her eyes. "I did not mean to raise my voice to you. I'm sorry."

She sat beside him still, sad that the formal stranger had returned. She wanted nothing so much as to lie down beside him on the bed and just cling to him, but with him so distant, it didn't seem right.

"Shall I let you get some rest?" she asked, eager now to step away, just so she could breathe.

"I've rested enough," he told her. "It's time I got up and faced my village. I feel there must be a lot to do."


	21. Chapter 21

Marian stayed loyally by Robin's side, as he went from cottage to cottage through Locksley, greeting their villagers. He did not admit to any of them that anything about him had changed, but when he met the Scarlets and showed them the same formal restraint he had shown to others, Will and Djaq immediately knew there was something terribly wrong.

Robin grew alarmed when his wife openly admitted his memory lapse to the young couple he felt he had only just met.

"You don't mind, Djaq," Marian said to the pretty foreign woman, "that I sent for Matilda instead of you? She knows more about the practices of local witches."

"Of course I do not mind," the Saracen woman responded, in a calm, soft, heavily accented voice. "The important thing is for Robin to recover. Has Matilda mentioned when that might happen?"

Robin felt like swearing under his breath. His wife was discussing his condition with these serfs, so he believed, as though he wasn't even present. He felt his temper rise up within him again.

"Excuse me," he said, inclining his head slightly with respect to his wife, before marching away. He had no wish to remain and listen to them continue to discuss him.

Miller, baker, cobbler, blacksmith...He tried to smile and meet his people, who in turn, greeted him with warmth and affection. To everyone, he was "Master Robin," not "My lord," or the less formal "Sir," denoting his status as a knight. And then he reached the potter's cottage.

A small, plain faced young blond woman manned the kiln, firing clay pots. As soon as she saw him, she stopped her work and ran toward him. The impact of her hurtling herself into his arms knocked the wind out of him.

"Robin!" she cried happily.

"Good day," he uttered nervously, removing her clinging arms from around his chest.

The lass stood looking at him fondly... far too fondly, to his mind, but at least she wasn't leering at him, the way the witch had.

"How are you?" he asked, hoping she might supply her name.

"Better now," she said. She wore a lavender colored gown, and had fixed her hair with a braid where it grew from her forehead. It appeared to him as though she had tried to make herself attractive.

"That's a very pretty dress," he said kindly, "for firing pots."

She seemed to drink in his words, as though he had paid her an enormous compliment. "I thought you'd come see me today," she simpered.

Robin grew more and more uneasy. The girl acted as though she owned a part of him. He prayed it wasn't so, but his curiosity could take it no longer.

"And that is special to you because...?" he asked.

"I'm your girlfriend!" the lass cried, believing in her deluded mind that it was so.

Robin almost tripped over his own feet, stepping backwards, in his hurry to get away.

No! He couldn't believe it! How could he be such a cad, as to cheat on that amazing woman who was his wife? Especially with this unremarkable, unintelligent woman from his village? Although there were many things he could not remember, he knew better than to commit adultery, or to have improper relations with a woman he felt sworn to protect like a father. He hated himself at that moment.

Well, whatever he'd done in the past, he at least had the power now to put things right and start anew. Perhaps that was the reason the Lord had taken his memory, he thought.

"I'm sorry," he told the blond lass. "Whatever happened between us in the past, ends today. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm a married man, and I will be true to my wife."

"But what about us?" she cried, her face angry and bitter.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It's over."

He turned and began walking away, angry at himself for putting her in such a position. He only prayed she wouldn't seek revenge and tell his wife, who seemed completely ignorant of the relationship he must have had with the scraggly haired blond.

Behind him, he heard the woman scream out a soldier's curse, then heard a thundering crash. Spinning around, he saw her hurling large stones at her family's own kiln. Suddenly, the kiln split apart, and came crashing to the ground. Tongues of fire leaped into the air, catching onto the dry thatched roofs of neighboring cottages.

The village of Locksley was on fire, and its lord leapt swiftly into action to take command and organize a bucket brigade.


	22. Chapter 22

Robin paced the floor of his bedchamber, with the pent up energy of a caged tiger.

In one regard, he had enjoyed a satisfying day. In spite of the danger to his village, he had almost felt happy rolling up his sleeves and hurriedly passing buckets of water along a brigade, to put out the fires in his village. He'd also begun the process of rethatching the roofs of the homes that had been damaged, and now he was preparing for bed, tired and pleased at a job well done.

His wife, he had been amazed to see, worked alongside him to help put out the fires, disregarding the state of her gown, her hair, or her nails. By the time the fires were doused, she had several smudges of soot on her face and neck, and had broken a nail or two, but he hadn't heard a single complaint escape her lips. She'd acted tirelessly, more helpful than many of the men.

Marian's selflessness made Robin even more ashamed of the relationship he believed he must have engaged in with the potter's daughter Kate, for he had learned her name from hearing her mother scold her. At least he had ended it today once and for all, and Marian had not been hurt. At least he hoped she hadn't.

He didn't feel worthy of this family God had blessed him with. The children were adorable...healthy, bright, affectionate, good...absolute treasures! Holy Mother of God! The little girls in their nightgowns, with their hair damp from their bath, all sweet smelling, as soft as silk, smiling up at him as though he was a hero. And his son, splashing and squealing in his bath! The baby had his eyes, he could see that. And the older girl was docile and pensive, and sweet as a rose, while the younger one was a glorious handful. He wondered why her mother kept her hair so cropped, but already trusted his wife as an excellent mother, so knew there must be a reasonable explanantion. He'd heard the child had been recently ill. Perhaps her hair had been cut off then, when she'd had fever.

And then there was Marian. He was expecting her to join him in this very room any moment now. More to the point, in that very bed. How should he proceed with her? He was sorely tempted, but he felt he barely knew her. He did not want to dishonor her, especially after learning that he had already done so, by his adulterous affair. She deserved better. From here on out, he'd give her his very best.

The door opened, revealing the woman he had been thinking of.

Marian entered boldly, as if she were hiding her hesitancy behind false valour.

"It feels so good to be clean again," she mentioned, fresh from a bath.

She looked gorgeous in a simple linen nightdress, and Robin gulped air, then released it slowly through clamped teeth.

"I, uh...I don't know what I sleep in," he said, nervous as a bridegroom.

"You prefer to sleep...raw," she told him, failing at sounding casual and worldly.

"I'll just sleep in my shirt and trousers then," he said, stopping by the open window to look out over his village, to avoid looking into her lovely eyes.

Marian joined him, standing by his side, and his heart skippped a beat when he felt her take his hand.

"You've lost your memory, temporarily, I hope," she told him, "but you are still my Robin. You were wonderful today, taking command and working like a Trojan. I was proud of you, sweetheart."

That stung. His conscience smote him again. He did not deserve her.

"What a lovely night," she said, wishing he would put his arms around her, longing for greater closeness. This distance between them was agony! Well, she thought, if he felt too shy to touch her, then she could help him conquer that shyness. She reached up and cupped one hand on his cheek, then stroked it tenderly.

He stiffened, looked ashamed, then gently removed her hand and lifted it to his lips.

"I don't even know which side of the bed I sleep on," he told her, bewildered.

"Like a proper knight," she said smiling, "you sleep closest to the door, to 'protect' me, should an intruder attack. Which means, I sleep closest to the windows, to 'protect' you, should an intruder choose to scale the outside walls instead."

He laughed, lessening the tension between them.

"I only half joke," she continued, smiling even brighter. "I saved your life more times than I can count on one hand."

"Is that so? Maybe you can tell me all about it, when we go to bed."

"I will."

He still hesitated, so she walked to the bed, snuffed out the candles, pulled back the bedclothes, and climbed under them.

Robin gently slid under the covers as well, and she immediately snuggled up against him. "This is how we sleep, my husband," she told him. "But you have neglected one very important thing."

"And what is that?" he asked, putting his feet back on the floor and beginning to rise from the bed.

"Get-back-here," Marian ordered, pulling him to her by his arms. "You forgot to kiss me goodnight."

"Well then," he said, lying beside her and taking her gently in his arms. "That sounds like a plan."


	23. Chapter 23

Marian only saw fit to inform a few trusted people about Robin's condition, not wishing to alarm others needlessly.

Of course, she thought it best to tell Thornton, Locksley's faithful reeve, and left it to his discretion which servants, if any, also needed to be told. And she had informed Friar Tuck, their priest and confessor. Both men had known Robin since his childhood, and she knew neither would blather the news abroad.

But when Much showed up on their doorstep the following morning, Marian debated with herself whether to tell him.

On the one hand, he had helped her rescue Robin. Even more than that, he was Robin's oldest and truest friend, and deserved to know. On the other hand, Much was known to rarely keep a secret, despite his best intentions to do so.

Weighing both bits of knowledge, Marian decided to risk telling him.

This had been one of those rare mornings when Marian had risen before her husband, and she greeted Much and invited him to join herself and her children around the breakfast table.

"Where's Robin?" Much asked, digging into a hearty breakfast of cold fowl and freshly baked bread.

"Still sleeping," Marian told him. "Grace, we don't play with our food, Precious. We eat it."

"We eat it, Gracie," Ellen echoed her mother.

"That's unusual," Much commented cheerfully. "What happened? Did he celebrate his return with too much ale?"

Marian shot him a reproving look, not wanting the children to hear their father disparaged.

"Daddy's sick," Grace spoke up, eyeing the bobbing plume on Lord Bonchurch's bonnet, wishing she could tickle Kitty with it. "Like I was yesterday."

"Not yesterday, dear," her mother gently corrected her, "but recently."

"Sick?" Much cried, pushing his plate away in alarm. "What do you mean sick?"

"He'll be fine," Marian assured him. "He just needs rest."

After the girls were dismissed from the table and taken outdoors by Bridget Thronton, Marian balanced Edward on her lap and told Much everything, warning him to do his best to keep the secret.

As she finished explaining, Robin himself came jauntily down the stairs to join them.

Robin was under the mistaken impression that Much was his brother.

"Good morning," he greeted both his wife and his friend. "I see we're very informal here."

"Yes," Marian agreed. "We help ourselves to what is laid before us."

"Good. I'm not up to be waited on today. It's good you're here," he told Much. "You can help with the repairs."

"Repairs?" Much sputtered, staring at Robin as though he had lost his mind instead of merely his memory. "What repairs?"

Marian explained about yesterday's fires, causing Much to cry, "Unbelievable! So that's why I saw Will working so hard with his hatchet this morning! He must be delighted, having an excuse to build things!"

Robin quickly finished eating, being in a hurry to begin work. He asked Marian for a chance to hold the baby first, and as he walked him around the room in his arms, Much and Marian carried on a private conversation.

"He doesn't seem so very different, Marian," Much commented. "He's stilll giving me orders."

"He's himself, only more subdued, and humble."

"Sounds like a refreshing change."

"It wears off quickly, believe me," she told him quietly. "I miss my cocky Robin."

"Shall we?" Robin asked, inviting them both to join him outdoors.

...

While Marian attended to her children and her household tasks, Robin and Much worked hard alongside the men of the village, doing repairs on the cottages that had been damaged by yesterday's fire. Robin avoided all contact with Kate, who glowered at him, angry he had told her her imaginery "romance" with him was over.

Robin was surprised how friendly his "brother" was with the young carpenter Will and his wife Djaq. For that matter, he was surprised to see Djaq, dressed in men's clothing today, working hard to help the men. He had to admit, he was impressed by the young couple.

Much kept up a constant chatter the entire time they worked, and Robin found himself tuning him out. There was just too much noise in his head to listen politely to everything his brother was saying.

All at once, while they were taking a brief rest after some heavy work, Much began to sing.

"Summer is a'comin' in  
>Loudly sing cuckoo!<br>Groweth seed and bloweth meed  
>And springeth the wood new.<br>Sing cuckooo!"

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Robin cried, not being able to take it any longer. His brother had a terrible voice.

"Sorry," Much said. "I thought the occasion called for a song."

"No occasion calls for that kind of music," Robin replied, relieved to have stopped the offensive sound.

The goodwives in the village brought food and watered ale for the men to eat and drink outdoors. Robin and Much were both enjoying themselves, and before too long, Robin felt completely comfortable with his "brother," and affection and respect for his willingness to work hard and good nature triumphed over his sense of loss. Before long, he was teasing Much, and slinging his arm around his neck. Much forgot all about his friend's lapse in memory.

When the work was done, and Robin was cleaned up, he made his way alone to the village church, to seek out Friar Tuck and make confession for the sin he believed he had committed against God and his wife with the village girl Kate.


	24. Chapter 24

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

Robin knelt on his knees before the altar of his village church and genuflected, alone in the sanctuary with Friar Tuck.

"What sins have you committed, my son?" the kind monk asked, in his pleasant, mild voice.

Robin hesitated, hating to admit what he falsely believed to be true. At last, with bowed head, he confessed, "I committed adultery, Father."

His words were met by silence. He waited, but still the lively fat friar did not speak. Looking up, Robin was surprised to see the friar's brown eyes looking at him indignantly in anger.

Robin had no idea the friar could appear so frightful. Until this moment, he had seemed so jolly and mild, with the large brown eyes of a well fed calf. But now, his bovine eyes resembled those belonging to an angry bull, about to charge. Robin steeled himself to receive a heavy penance, but first he had to listen to a vituperate lecture.

"Robin!" Friar Tuck scolded. "You? Against Marian? I would never have believed it! How could you do it to her?"

"I don't know," Robin answered, growing angry himself. "But I don't need a lecture. I've upbraided myself enough. I came here to seek forgiveness, and ask for a penance."

"Oh, you shall have your penance! But as for forgiveness? Believe me, our heavenly Father may have already forgiven you, but it will take me a matter of months, or longer, before I can."

Robin hung his head. "Just give me my penance," he begged, ashamed.

"Do you repent of your sin?" the friar barked at him.

"Most sincerely, Father," Robin answered.

Tuck heaved an angry sigh. It was not his right to cast judgment on his fellow man, but for Robin to dishonor his marriage vows, against Marian, whom Tuck loved like a father, was more than he could stand. He'd give the young man a penance, alright! He'd give him a penance he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon!

"First," he told Robin, "you must say 3 Hail Marys and one Our Father, and pray the rosary every hour on the hour for 6 days."

"Yes, Father," Robin sighed, thinking it was not enough. But then, nothing would be enough, in his mind.

"And," the friar continued, adopting his nonconventional practices, "you must face Little John in a battle of staffs."

"Little John?" Robin cried. "Don't tell me you're having me fight a child?"

Tuck remembered Locksley had lost his memory. "Oh," he laughed caustically, "Little John's no child. You'll see when you face him."

"At least give me a full grown opponent," Robin demanded. "My sin demands it!"

"I shall assign the penance, my son," Tuck reminded him calmly. "Not you."

The very thought of Little John beating Robin black and blue did wonders to restore Tuck's good humor.

"Come. Follow me. We shall find Little John together, and then, your penance shall commence."

Robin rose, brushed off his knees, and followed the friar into the forest.

...

Robin was amazed when he finally met the man Friar Tuck called "Little John." So! The name was a jest, of sorts. Very well! He'd face this giant, with his tremendous strength and massive hands. So much the better to assauage his guilt, by suffering at his hands! Still, he'd get in a few good blows of his own, and teach the giant not to discount him!

Friar Tuck pulled Little John aside and told him he needed him to fight Robin with his quarterstaff, as a way for Robin to serve penance for his sins.

"Sins?" Little John bellowed. "If Robin has to spend just one day in Purgatory, after giving himself to the poor all his life, then your Church, and all your saints, I do not like!"

"Just fight him, John," the monk advised. "And do not spare him your strength. Believe me, he's earned it."

"No. I will no hurt him."

"You must! I violate my vows to keep the confessional confidential, but listen to me, John! Robin confessed to adultery!"

"Adultery?" Little John's anger rose up to grow as strong as his muscles. Turning to Robin, he called out, "Well, come on, then!"

Robin leapt to his feet and cut a large, sturdy oak staff to brandish against John's blackthorn one. Just the sight of the huge, hairy, unkempt brute facing him made his own temper swell.

"You will fight me here, in the forest?" he asked.

"No. On the log bridge."

"Over the water? Wonderful! The fish will make a fine feast of you, once I topple you into the stream!"

Little John merely glowered at the noble. He could not believe his friend had cheated on Marian, and he longed to teach him a lesson and make him suffer for it!

Friar Tuck stayed on the bank, to watch the fight. And an epic battle it proved to be! Little John had the benefit of size and strength, and practice with his staff, but Robin was quick and clever and determined to win. He scored the first blow, smashing John's brow with a lightening quick stroke of his staff.

John countered, bringing his own staff crashing down on Robin's shoulders, nearly dropping him to his knees. But Robin was strong and stubborn, and held his ground.

The fight raged on and on, and as sweat ran over the brows of the men, into their eyes and down their backs, they continued to fight as if through a haze.

Robin was enjoying the fight, believing he deserved nothing less than a whipping. His ribs burned and his shoulders ached, and at last, the giant delivered a bludgeoning blow, catching the nobleman between his ribs and his hips, sending him reeling over the side of the log and into the swirling waters of the stream below.

Robin came up from under water, sputtering, glad of the "bath."

"Well fought!" he cried, with respect for his opponent's strength and skill. "And Friar," he added, "can you see I've been baptised again, and born anew?" He swam to the stream bank and pulled himself out of the water. "You see before you a new man, who swears to never break his marriage vows again."

He extended his hand to shake Little John's, and was surprised when the giant enfolded him in a bear hug instead.

"Go," the giant instructed. "Home to Marian. Make things right."

"Thank you," Robin said, growing emotional. "I'll try. God bless you," he added, not understanding why he felt so moved by the stranger's advice.

The giant turned and lumbered away, deeper into the forest.

"Well, Friar," Robin said, leaning on his staff, dripping wet, and covered in bruises, "your penance was unorthodox, but just what I needed. And now, I think I'm ready to hold my head up again in my family's presence."

"Don't forget your Hail Marys, Our Father, nor praying the rosary."

"That's right," Robin remembered. "Every hour?"

"On the hour, for six days," Friar Tuck confirmed. "And there is one more thing I need to tell you, unrelated to serving your penance."

"What is that?"

"I'd like you to come with me to Kirklees Abbey, to meet the Abbess there. She has agreed to help us humanely rid the shire of the witch."

"Just say the word, and I'll go with you," Robin agreed.


	25. Chapter 25

Marian walked innocently into her bedchamber to fetch a comb for Ellen's hair, but was completely taken by surprise to find her husband there, wearing nothing but a pair of snug fitting trousers and a torso covered in bruises.

"What happened to you?" she gasped, forgetting all about the tangles in her first born child's hair, and unknowingly interrupting one of Robin's "Hail Mary's."

"Creature by the name of 'Little John,' " he informed her, proudly. "Deceptive name! Truth is, he's not so little!"

Marian rolled her eyes. Her Robin may have lost his memory, but he still found it enjoyable to brawl for pleasure with Little John in the forest. Men! They never grew up, she was thinking.

"Don't move," she told him. "I'll apply salve to your 'war wounds.' "

"Thank you."

Stepping out into the passageway, Marian requested a passing servant to bring her some fresh butter while she went in search of the family medicine chest. Before Robin had time to complete his "Our Father," she returned with the balm to ease his aches and pains.

"Here it is," she announced. "A mixture of common comfrey, St. John's wort, and lady's mantle, applied with Locksley's own butter, and you'll be good as new."

"Fit to be roasted and served up for supper, more like," he grinned.

"Just don't get too close to the fire," she teased.

She tried to steady her hands to keep them from trembling as her fingertips touched his body, applying the salve. He was obviously affected by her touch, and not because his bruises ached, and it affected her as well.

"There!" she said, relieved when she had finished.

"May I ask you a question?" he said politely.

"Of course."

Tilting his head to indicate the large scar on his left side, he asked her, "How did I come by this?"

She busied herself tidying the medicine chest while she answered his question. "You were stabbed protecting the King in the Holy Land. It nearly killed you, so I've been told. That and the ensuing fever. You don't remember any of it?"

"I remember you, lying in the sand, with a sword through your belly. I was sure you were dead."

His voice caught in his throat, and her own throat felt tight because of his emotion.

"That was another time, but it happened in the Holy Land as well. Actually, the same man stabbed us both."

"Did I kill him?"

She didn't answer immediately. She had detected an edge to his voice, that same edge she had heard in the past, whenever he spoke of Gisbourne. A chill went through her.

"Not for lack of trying. But he's dead now, at any rate. I shot him," she admitted, with a mixture of pride and unhappiness at having taken a life. Even Gisbourne's.

His eyes bored into her so intensely, she didn't think she could hold up under their searching vivid blue gaze. But she didn't look away. She held his gaze, even though the air seemed to grow thick, making it difficult to breathe.

He wanted her, that much was clear. And she wanted him every bit as much.

Why was this so difficult, she wondered? They were married! They were lovers who trusted one another...well practiced lovers who found joy and pleasure in each others' kisses and embraces.

"Robin," she uttered, in a small voice choked with passion.

"You are the most incredible woman," he breathed.

"I am your wife."

"I don't deserve you."

"I think you do."

Three short raps on their door interrupted the scene. Much stood framed in their doorway, eyes popping at the sight of Robin's bruises.

"What happened?" he cried frantically.

"Little John," Marian almost snapped, irritated by Much's timing.

"Ah! He got you good, Robin! Put a shirt on; it's time for supper! Odd thing is, I think I can smell it better up here in your room than down below, closer to the kitchen! Hmm! Funny thing, that! Smells all nice and savory, like herbs and butter!"

"That would be me," Robin grinned, pulling a shirt over his head.


	26. Chapter 26

"Marian," Much exclaimed between bites of pork, seated beside Robin at Locksley Manor's dining table, "did you hear? Robin thinks we're brothers! Well, not you and me, Marian! That wouldn't make sense! He thinks he and I are brothers! Unbelievable! Amazing!"

Marian gave a little shrug of her shoulders, a gesture she'd seen the French ladies use when she and Robin had been prisoners in King Philip of France's new castle, the Louvre.

"What's so amazing about it?" Robin asked, affectionately ruffling Much's hair. "The girls call you 'Uncle Much,' and you live at Bonchurch, which you told me was one of my family's holdings."

"Key word," Much explained pompously, "is 'was.' You own it no longer, though my wife frequently complains you think you do, the way you strut in and out, and prop your feet up on the table!"

"I don't recall your wife, but I doubt I'd be so rude as to put my feet on her furniture."

"You do, though. You still think of Bonchurch as your hunting lodge, even though you gave it to me years ago."

"That was awfully generous of me! What's wrong with the place? Is it haunted?"

"Only by you, when you're in the mood to hunt."

"Ah!" Robin exclaimed. "Rather like Locksley's haunted by you, whenever meals are being served!"

Robin laughed good naturedly at Much's expense, and his little girls laughed along with him, even though they didn't understand the jest.

"Very funny! Very funny!" Lord Bonchurch said, biting into a baked apple.

Marian watched the interactions between her two oldest and dearest friends, fighting back a twinge of jealousy for the easy comraderie between the two men. Even with Robin's loss of memory, he seemed completely at ease with Much, whereas he acted as though he was afraid to touch her!

It was simply the nature of their relationships, she hastened to assure herself. Robin could relax and be himself with Much because their relationship was simple, friendship in its truest form. His relationship with her was far more complicated, and always had been. There were depths and layers that didn't exist in his feelings for Much, no matter how deeply they ran.

She was tired of the obstacles blocking the sense of oneness she had achieved with Robin through years of their happy, loving marriage. Matilda had told her to sit back and wait...that his memory would come rushing back, but Marian was never good at sitting back and waiting for anything. She decided to take action.

While Much and Robin joked back and forth, she leaned back and summoned Thornton to her side.

"Untap a new casket of ale," she instructed the servant. "Lord Bonchurch is thirsty."

A fair amount of ale would do wonders to loosen up her husband, and help him drop that formal guardedness he wore in her presence. That and a small touch of perfume on her body, and the absence of her nightdress. That last detail of her plan would be so convincing, she probably wouldn't need the perfume after all. Maybe not even the ale! But it was too late. Thornton had already handed foaming tankards to the two lords sitting merrily at her table, and she watched Robin drain his in one gulp.

...

Marian had been so convincing, encouraging Robin to refill his tankard again and again, she was afraid she had destroyed her chances with him tonight. He and Much sat up after the girls and the baby were put to bed, laughing and talking, and even singing together, which was a sure sign Robin was drunk.

"Oh well," she sighed. "I did keep insisting he have another. And another! I hope his head won't hurt in the morning."

She said her prayers and climbed into her bed, alone. Before long, however, Robin pushed open their door, swayed slightly on his feet, then entered the chamber, believing she was already asleep.

"Every hour on the hour," she heard him mutter quietly to himself. "I think I missed some hours."

Marian watched as her husband opened a small wooden casket and lifted out his rosary beads.

"I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth," he began, "and in Jesus Christ, His only son, our Lord..."

Was he going to recite the entire rosary, she wondered? That would take forever!

As soon as he finished The Apostles Creed, she interrupted him.

"Robin," she said, sitting up in bed, "what are you doing?"

"Every hour on the hour," he repeated.

"Every hour on the hour what?"

"Penance," he responded.

"Penance? What have you done?"

"That, milady, is between me, God, and Tire F#*k, I mean, Friar Tuck. Pardon me. Did I swear?"

"Not intentionally. But don't worry, I won't tell. 'Every hour on the hour' sounds like stiff enough penance."

"For six days. But not stiff enough, Marian. Not nearly stiff enough for cheating on you."

Marian froze under the bedclothes. Cheating on her? No! No! He hadn't! And then she remembered the witch.

The witch had seduced him, while he'd been drugged and imprisoned in her cave. Climbing from the bed, she dropped to her knees beside her kneeling husband, and clasped him in her arms.

"Oh, my darling! Oh, Robin! It doesn't matter! Whatever she did to you, you couldn't help yourself!"

"You sure are an understanding wife," he commented. "Better than any man deserves. And I swear to you, Marian, I'll never be unfaithful again."

"I should hope not." She began to feel uncomfortable. What if he weren't meaning the witch? What if he had been untrue since he lost his memory, for some odd reason? He'd certainly not made love to her since he'd come home!

"We are talking about the witch, aren't we?" she asked, uncomfortably.

"Well, Kate's no beauty, but I don't think I'd go as far as to call her a witch. 'Dog,' definitely. 'Witch?' No."

"Kate? Why do you say you were unfaithful with Kate?"

"She said she was my girlfriend," Robin explained.

Marian collapsed on the floor, laughing. "Oh, Robin! Kate's not your 'girlfriend!' That's just what she claims, wishing it were so!" Marian continued to laugh, even as tears ran down her cheeks.

"So I earned these bruises from Little Jack for nothing?" he asked, amazed.

"John. Little John. But what does he have to do with Kate?"

"Nothing, if he's smart. But fighting him was a big part of my penance."

"Was it? Well, I'll just have to have a word with Tire...never mind, come morning."

"Better catch him early. He and I are off to Kirklees Abbey at first light, to meet with the Abbess."

Marian rose and Robin stood as well, on slightly unsteady legs. She took his arm and led him to the bed.

She felt her laughter and his drunken confession had somehow cleared the air. At any rate, her heart felt lighter than it had since he'd been brought home from the witch's cave.

"Come to bed, Sweetheart," she coaxed, pulling his boots off his feet.

He lay back on the bed, watching her with that same intense fire his eyes had worn before supper, voicing no objection when she continued removing pieces of his clothing, one by one.

"You're enchanting, Marian," he confessed to her, not sounding nearly as drunk as he had just a few short moments before. "I want you, but I'm nervous. I feel as if I've never touched you before."

"It's always like the first time for us," she told him softly, "only better. So very, very much better."

"Really?"

"Really."

Trembling, she slipped her nightdress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, then found her way into his arms.


	27. Chapter 27

Robin awoke the following morning with a pounding head, but a soaring heart.

His body was all over bruises from yesterday's fight with Little John, but he barely felt them.

"Married life is the best!" he thought triumphantly, gazing in rapture at his sleeping wife.

All of a sudden, he realized his memory had returned while he'd been sleeping. At least, a good portion of it had. He could remember his childhood, and his early youth. Everything in fact, up to the time he had left England to go to war.

"I hurt you by leaving," he thought regretfully, looking at Marian. "But we obviously made it up! I wonder how."

Outside his window a cock crowed, signifying morning's first light. "I'm late," he realized, rising from the bed to prepare for his visit with Friar Tuck to Kirklees Abbey.

...

Robin loaned the portly friar the use of one of his older, calmer horses, yet even so, Tuck was having a difficult time in the saddle, being unused to riding.

When they reached Nottingham, Tuck begged they take a rest and enjoy some refreshment at the Trip to Jerusalem Inn.

"But Tuck," Robin objected, "it's not open this early. And I won't use my peerage as leverage to trouble the innkeeper."

"Ah! But he is a great friend of yours. And if you don't wish to eat or drink, you can step away and say the rosary. You haven't forgotten your penance, I trust."

Robin laughed. "It's no longer necessary. Turns out, I didn't commit adultery after all!"

Tuck winced from the soreness in his buttocks. "No sin?"

"I wouldn't go that far. But no adultery, thanks be to God."

"I hate to think what your wife will say to me, when she learns I let you fight against Little John for no reason."

"I wouldn't have missed that, for anything. In fact, I'm thinking about challenging him to another round, just so I can see the splash he makes when I topple him into the stream."

The friar winced again as his stomach rumbled. "Robin, please! Just a short stop, I implore you!"

Robin looked into the friar's kind, pleading eyes. "Very well. But don't slosh any ale my direction. I don't want to see another cup of that devil's brew ever again. Or at least not until sundown," he joked.

Robin leaped from Apollo's back, then stroked his horse's muzzle after tying off his reins.

"Apollo, god of many things, including archery. I like that!"

Before he could help Tuck dismount, he found himself surrounded by smiling citizens, all with their hands out, expecting money.

Many of them he recognized, though they were older than he remembered them. Others were new faces he had never seen before.

"Robin! Robin! Just a hae penny!"

"Can you spare us a coin or two? My missus is hungry!"

Without questioning any of them, Robin opened his purse and distributed its full contents among the needy.

"Thank you! Thank you, Robin Hood!" many of them cried.

"Robin Hood?" Robin turned questioning eyes on Tuck.

"Your outlaw name. You helped the poor, and continue to do so."

"What's happened to Nottingham?" he asked, dismayed by the number of wretched beggers.

"It's a long story, my son. But things are better than they were. I'll not speak treason, but England is unwell under King John."

"John? John's King? What happened to Richard?"

Friar Tuck crossed himself. "Dead, I regret to say. John rules over us now. The sheriff here was installed by Richard, and he's fair. Sheriff Wilfred, his name is. Sees that John gets his tax monies, thanks largely to your good mangement of your estates, so he's kept his place."

"And what of Lord Knighton, my father-in-law? When did he stop being sheriff?"

"So many questions! Look! Here's Allan now, the proprietor here, and a friend of yours."

"I'm afraid I gave away my money. Unless you brought any, we'll be listening to your stomach rumble the rest of the way to Kirklees."

"No. Allan will stand us food and drink. I told you, he's your friend."

Robin looked at the bright eyed man approaching them, with his hand out to greet him. He looked like a pleasant fellow. He might as well confess to his memory loss. Perhaps this Allan would be more willing than Tuck to fill in the gaps in his memory.


	28. Chapter 28

"What happened to you? Not bein' funny, but you look like you just lost your best friend."

Allan a Dale couldn't help but comment on the sorrowful look on Robin's face.

"The King is dead," Robin said sadly, once Tuck's information about Richard had sunk in.

"What? Softsword's dead? Alleluia! I'll stand free drinks for all the men in Nottingham! We'll be celebratin' all day and night!"

Robin turned his unhappy gaze on the man Friar Tuck insisted was his good friend, and clarified, "I'm sorry...no. John lives. It's King Richard who has died."

Allan looked at Robin with a confused smirk.

"Still grievin' over Lionheart? I swear, Robin, even after he slung our wrists and ankles to poles and left us to rot in the desert sun, you'd lay down your life for him! Get over it, will you? Come on. Come inside and have a tankard on me. Your holy friend's already there, tuckin' into my wife's meat pies like they was communion bread."

Robin followed Allan into the Trip, but declined his offer of ale. As Allan had mentioned, Friar Tuck was already seated at a table, digging into a trencher of food, and washing it down with ale.

"Forgive me," Robin said to Allan. "I've lost my memory, and I only now learned of King Richard's passing."

He sighed, looking woebegone.

"Lost your memory?" Allan couldn't believe it. "You're joking!"

"I do not joke. Only ths morning, I began to recall my youth and childhood. Yesterday, I could remember practically nothing, except for a few images of my wife."

"Naked, I hope," Allan jested.

He was unprepared for what followed. Robin was on him in a flash, shoving him against a wall, pinning back his arms, and gripping him in a headlock so tight, Allan could scarcely breathe.

"Say another disrespectful word against my wife, knave, and I'll yank your tongue out and tie it around your head!"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Allan cried, nearly choking. "I was only joking!"

"Unhand him, Robin!" Tuck exclaimed, leaving his food to waddle toward the two men. Tuck used all his strength to try to pry them apart, but could not budge Robin's bulging biceps.

"Allan is your friend, and Marian's!" the holy friar insisted. "Release him! He saved both your lives in the past. Don't threaten his now!"

Slowly, Robin released the tavern keeper, but continued glaring at him through angry, suspicious eyes.

"Should you ever speak lewdly of my wife again, in my presence or out of it, make no mistake, I will find you and make you pay."

Allan rubbed his throat, wondering what had gotten into Robin. He thought he'd never see that side of Robin facing him again, that same threatening opponent who had nearly killed him when he'd worked for Gisbourne.

"Not bein' funny," he said, "but if Marian had heard me, she would'a rolled her eyes and brushed aside my comment, thinkin', 'Boys'll be boys,' or some such rot."

"You will refer to my wife as 'Her Ladyship,' " Robin ordered him coldly.

"Whadju do with the real Robin, Tuck? Bring him back, and chuck out this high and mighty impostor."

Tuck merely shook his head and returned to his food.

Allan and Robin traded glares. At last, Allan ventured, "So, you lost your memory, did you? You don't remember much a anything, oi? Not even Vaisey?"

"What is that?" Robin asked, suspiciously.

Allan smirked. "You don't even remember Giz, I take it?"

"I have no memory of Vaisey or Giz or anything that happened after I set sail for the Holy Land. Perhaps you wouldn't mind enlightening me?"

Allan rubbed his throat again. It hurt badly from Robin having shoved his arm into Allan's Adam's apple.

"Oh, I'd be glad to fill you in. For instance, you need to learn all about Guy of Gisbourne, and how he stole away your woman while you fought alongside your glorious Lionhearted hero! It's a story what'll have you sittin' on the edge of your seat!"


	29. Chapter 29

"Alright," Robin invited Allan coldly. "Since you're so eager to tell me, begin! Tell me all about this Guy of Gisbourne, whom you claim stole the lady who has since married me and is the mother of my children. I hardly think your story could end happily for him."

"Yeah, well, you already know the ending. It's the parts you're missing what I'm gonna tell you."

"Well, go on! What did this Gisbourne do, to steal my lady away from me?"

Allan propped himself on the edge of a table to begin his tale. All around them, a handful of bleary eyed tavern girls swept and wiped down tables and chairs, preparing the Trip for another day's custom.

"Well," Allan began, enjoying his chance to get back at Robin for nearly strangling him, "you were gone at war for almost five years. I wasn't around, but it figures men would be buzzin' around Marian-I mean, Her Ladyship, like bees around a perfumed strumpet."

"I suggest you find a more appropriate comparison, unless you want me to carry out my earlier threat to your tongue."

"Alright! Alright! Don't get your drawers in a wad! Men flocked to Her Ladyship like bees to blossoms. How's that?"

"Better. Go on."

"Yeah. And there were a few she liked better than most. She got betrothed once or twice. Martin of Aylesbury, and-"

Robin interrupted Allan with a snort. "Aylesbury? That fool? You're lying! Marian would never align herself with such a buffoon!"

"Yeah, well, you believe what you want. You weren't around then, and you can't remember now. You want to tell the story, or listen to me tell it?"

"Go on," Robin invited, a slight flush of jealousy staining his cheeks at the thought of Marian and Aylesbury as a couple.

"Where was I? Oh, right. Aylesbury, and a bloke called Roger of Stoke."

"Now I know you lie! Roger is a friend of mine!"

"Yeah? Well, guess what? Friendship dudn't always stand up against a pair of what Her Ladyship can sport. Whoa! Back off! I was talkin' about her eyes!"

"I don't believe you. Roger would never stab me in the back by pursuing my lady."

"Well, but she weren't your lady, was she?"

Robin had to concede. He fully remembered the heated argument resulting in his and Marian's broken betrothal, just before he left for battle.

"Just tell me about this Gisbourne fellow." Brushing aside his jealousy, he prepared himself to listen.

What had he expected, anyway, and why was he angry now? If he'd truly been away five years, it was a miracle Marian was now his wife. He regained his rational outlook, being thankful to be Marian's husband.

"Now, about Gisbourne... You gotta be able to picture the man to get the full effect. Big, strong man. Bigger 'an you, by a head or more. Wide across the shoulders, and narrow through the hips. Dark, handsome, brooding. Dangerous. You know, every woman's dream. Irrestible to 'em."

He paused, waiting to see what effect his words would have. Tuck continued eating and drinking. Allan had lost count how many meat pies the man had put away. As for Robin, he was listening intently, but had betrayed no sign of emotion at hearing Gisbourne's description.

"Now, Gisbourne wanted Maria-Her ladyship...wanted her like an itch you can't reach. It drove him mad how bad he wanted her! He'd begun his wooin' before you showed your face back in Nottingham, but soon as you come home, that's when he really got warmed up!"

"Shame for him I came home when I did," Robin smirked. "I guess he had to find someone else to scratch that itch of his."

Allan laughed. "Good one! But, naw. What makes you think Her Ladyship dropped him for you?"

Robin stared at the man, not comprehending. "I returned," he answered simply.

"Yeah, you returned, and Her Ladyship would have none of you! Not with Gisbourne lapping at her heels, and eyein' her up and down, like a hungry cat watchin' an innocent songbird in a bush."

"She married me," Robin snapped. "Your story doesn't hold my interest. Come on, Tuck. The Abbess awaits."

Tuck shoved the last few bites into his mouth, then rose on chubby legs to follow Robin, who was already halfway out the door.

"Yeah, she married you, eventually. But not before she kneeled on her knees beside Giz at the altar, blushin' under her lace veil, makin' her vows."

Robin froze, then spun around to eye Allan, who perched casually against a table, cleaning his nails with a table knife.


	30. Chapter 30

The stop in Nottingham had been a mistake, Friar Tuck was thinking, as he and Robin rode northward, toward Kirklees Abbey. Tuck's rotund bottom felt more sore than before he'd taken a break from the saddle, and as for his companion...Robin was anything but his cheerful, engaging self for having listened to Allan a Dale's stories. He rode alongside Tuck, sullenly pensive, and silent as the tomb.

Robin was angry, irrationally so. Overnight, he had regained his memories of his early romance with Marian, while just hours before, he'd experienced the amazing and overwhelmingly sweet closeness of making love with her, only to find out today that he had been her second choice in husbands! Or so he believed, from Allan's story.

He wasn't fully convinced...that tavern keeper smacked of a liar to him. Yet he was convinced enough of his story to feel jealous and hurt.

Unable to put his jealously aside, he asked Tuck, "I know you've been away from the shire, but did you know Marian had been married to that Guy of Gisbourne person?"

"There was talk of a wedding in the Locksley church. I know precious little about the marriage."

"What do you know of the man?" Robin asked, trying to quiet his jangling nerves.

"Very little. Speak his name aloud, and you're met with distrust and fear everywhere. It's almost as if the peasants fear he'll return from beyond the grave to persecute them, as he did in life."

So, Gisbourne was dead, Robin gathered. That explained Marian being his own wife now. He'd clearly been her second choice. His false conclusion stung him deeply.

They rode in silence for the next half mile or so, but Robin couldn't let it go.

"Tell me everything you know, Tuck," he commanded.

Friar Tuck sighed.

"Robin, my son, what does it matter? Marian is your wife now. Let the dead past bury its dead."

"Tell me what you know," Robin repeated stubbornly.

"Very well, but it is of no consequence, as you shall hear. The man was a knight, that much I do know."

"I never met him. He wasn't at Acre, or Jaffa, or-"

"He never fought alongside King Richard. He was King John's man."

"I see." His voice was cold. "What else?"

"Gisbourne is said to have been defensive about his position, insecure about titles and lands that were stripped from his family. Which explains why he was so strict about being addressed as 'Sir Guy,' and why he never removed his knight's spurs."

"Don't tell me he wore his knight's spurs in his daily life? They're supposed to be reserved for tournaments, but most especially for real combat."

"I have heard that every day was 'real combat' for Sir Guy of Gisbourne."

Tuck didn't like the look behind Robin's eyes. He decided to try to change the subject.

"Having lost your memory, temporarily, I pray, you probably don't remember what happened to your own knight's spurs, do you, Robin?"

"We're discussing my wife's first choice in husbands. Not my absent spurs."

"Nonetheless, I shall tell you about your spurs, for it proves my point.

"Your spurs, Robin, were very special, and highly treasured by you, so Much has told me."

"Much talks too much."

"True, but listen and learn about yourself. Your spurs were special to you, Robin, because they were given to you by King Richard himself, when you agreed to join him in his crusade. They were gold tipped, as well, and Much claims they could blind a man when the brilliant sun of the Holy Land struck them."

"Richard gave me my spurs? I had a pair I remember, but they weren't tipped with gold."

"You gave your first pair to a child in the Holy Land, according to Much, a small Saracen boy in Acre who followed you around in hero worship."

"A Saracen? Why would I do that? Wasn't he the enemy?"

"Apparently, you learned many things concerning friends and foes during your time in the Holy Land, Robin. I pray you will remember everything you learned, for your lessons made you the man you are today."

Tuck was pleased he had diverted Robin's mind away from Gisbourne, at least temporarily. He continued with his story.

"But back to your golden spurs! You treasured them, as I said, yet sold them on your journey homeward, just so you could buy food for hungry beggars you did not know, in Sicily."

"I sold them? Spurs King Richard gave to me?"

"To feed the hungry. It's what you do, and you do it well."

Robin was quiet. He knew, if faced with hungry people begging for food, he'd sell those priceless spurs again, in a heartbeat.

Tuck resumed his lecture, bouncing uncomfortably along on horseback.

"You are a good man, Robin, always putting others' needs ahead of your own. Marian's the same. You two are meant for each other, you know. Do not concern yourself if she made a terrible mistake, and married a terrible man. She is your wife now. Take heart at that, and put aside your jealousy. It serves no purpose."

"I will most definitely try," Robin promised.

Suddenly, he drew rein, and leaped off Apollo's broad back.

"Just let me shoot, Father. I always feel better after firing off an arrow or two."

"Very well," Tuck sighed.

Robin scanned the horizon, then selected his target.

"Do you see the bell, in the belltower, distant from here?"

"I can't even see the belltower! Are we that close to Kirklees?"

"We are. It's just through those trees."

Tuck squinted. "I see the tower, but I doubt even an eagle could spy the bell hanging in it from this distance."

"I," Robin declared, feeling better as he raised his bow, "propose to make that bell ring!"

Tuck laughed mildly. "That is impossible, my son. Even you cannot shoot an arrow that far, especially with the tree limbs blocking your path. Do you really think your arrow will dodge all the branches, sail over that incredible distance, and strike a bell we cannot even see?"

"Watch me," Robin bragged. "And listen for the bell."

With the utmost care and precision, Robin aimed his arrow, and loosed it to fly.

Tuck sat astride his mount, chuckling at Robin's brashness.

All of a sudden, to his great surprise, the bell at Kirklees Abbey began to chime.

"No! You tricked me!" Tuck cried. "But it can't be Prime, or Vespers! Why is the bell ringing?"

"Because, Tuck," Robin gloated, climbing onto Apollo's back, "I'm a perfect shot. Now, let's go. You need to introduce me to the Abbess, and I need to apologize for upsetting the nuns by ringing their bell out of turn!"

Robin had recaptured his good spirits, at least for now. Tuck wondered how he would get along with the beautiful Abbess, who was sure to be angry at her bell sounding when it shouldn't.


	31. Chapter 31

Isabella of Gisbourne, clothed in her abbess habit, pushed open the door to her sumptuous private chambers and strode down the stone corridor of Kirklees Abbey.

"Why is that bell ringing?" she demanded, grabbing the first startled nun she happened upon by her wimple. "What stupid dewy eyed novice could have gotten the hour wrong?"

"I know not, Your Grace," the elderly nun wheezed.

"Worthless!" Isabella shrieked, releasing the old woman and shoving her aside. "I'm surrounded by incompetents!"

Continuing her approach toward the bell tower, Isabella stormed outwardly. "Eight times those blasted bells ring, day and night! Eight times! You'd think eight would be enough! But no! Somebody saw fit today to ring them again! And when I catch who got the hour wrong and pulled the bell cord, she'll wish she was back on daddy's pathetic little patch of land, shovelling horses#*t and being raped by the lord of the manor, and any other village thug who can't control the itch in his trousers!"

She stopped at the base of the bell tower and narrowed her eyes at the cluster of anxious nuns who had gathered. "Hell is filled with bells," she grimaced.

"Your Grace!" Sister Mary Catherine led her sisters in dropping a clumsey curtsey.

"You may rise," Isabella sneered. "Who rang that bell?" she asked the crowd of nuns, her voice dripping with menace.

No one answered, but many uttered silent prayers for protection against their "Mother's" wrath.

Isabella scanned their downcast faces with eyes of steel. "Will no one confess? I was under the impression you idiots enjoyed making confession!"

"If you please, Your Grace," one of the bolder nuns ventured, "it rang all by itself!"

"We fear it's witchcraft," another said meekly. The entire body of nuns crossed themselves.

"Stop that! Stop that at once!" Isabella shrieked, fed up to the teeth by their constant prayers and genuflecting.

"Stand aside," she ordered, pushing her way through the timid nuns, who darted away in all directions like frightened mice when a cat pounces. "I'll uncover this mystery. Witchcraft," she sneered. "As if that does any good."

She continued to regret the failure of her plan to see Robin and Marian burn at the stake by enlisting the help of Gwyan, the Witch of the Woods.

"The Worthless Witch of the Woods," she added, storming into the bell tower and running up the stone steps.

The bell had ceased its ringing chorus, and Isabella looked for clues. She could detect nothing to help her solve which decrepit old bag of bones, or ignorant foolish girl had committed the offense. "I'll punish every last one of them," she fumed.

Looking down from the tall tower, she at last spied something that caught her interest.

It was an arrow, snapped in two pieces from having been trampled under the feet of the gaggle of nuns.

Without another thought, Isabella dashed down the steps of the bell tower and out onto the green grass.

The arrow was fletched with the signature striped feathers of a wren.

Isabella could scarcely breathe. Nervously, she glanced all around, halfway expecting Robin to magically appear out of nowhere, the way he had done so many times when he had believed Marian dead, and Isabella had seduced him.

"Where are you?" she asked quietly, between gritted teeth.

At all costs, he mustn't learn her secret! No one must know she had been hiding in this frigid palace of stone and prayer, biding her time. She had made herself indispensible to the former Abbess, poor woman! Never knew what killed her. Never could have guessed that the honey she liked so well could disguise the taste of Isabella's own "special" brew she concocted just for the withered old crone. And then, after all the Te Deums had been sung, and the body was laid to rest under the Abbey floor, Isabella had simply moved into her chambers, and amused herself by redecorating them to suit her own opulent, exquisite tastes.

Like an animal being stalked and hunted, Isabella ran breathlessly back to those chambers now. He mustn't see her face! Safely inside her own rooms again, she pushed the door closed and stood leaning against it, panting.

Panic seized her when she imagined his golden voice greeting her smugly from a corner of the room. How like him to appear unannounced, whenever and wherever she felt herself safe! Part of her thrilled with excitement, but part of her trembled in fear.

She moved from her door and found the veil she used to hide her face whenever she ventured into public. Relaxing at last, she nonetheless jumped when a knock on her door startled her.

"Your Grace," one of her nuns said hesitantly. "Pray pardon my intrusion, but Your Grace has guests. Two men, one the holy friar who visited here recently, stand outside the gates, awaiting your pleasure."

"And the other?" Isabella asked, her throat constricted.

"Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington," the nun answered.

Isabella hesitated. Should she admit him? She had to see him! She had to! The very thought of him sent her blood coursing through her body, igniting it with passion.

The veil would hide her face, and she would not speak, claiming she had taken a vow of silence.

"Show them in," she commanded the sister.


	32. Chapter 32

Isabella felt her heartbeats quicken as she watched Robin, accompanied by Friar Tuck, enter the locutorium, the abbey's private parlor where she had secluded herself. Robin looked every inch as handsome, bold, and dashing as ever, and Isabella wished all fat, jolly, farting, wheezing holy men in Hell, so she could be alone once more with the former outlaw.

"Mother!" Friar Tuck greeted her warmly, hoping her hospitality would extend to offering a bite and sip of something hearty and tasty. "May I present Sir Robert of Locksley, Earl of Huntington? A man I am proud to call my friend! This, Robin, is Mother Bella."

"Well met, Mother," Robin said with a courteous smile, inclining his head in a polite bow. Isabella almost shivered in excitement at the rich sound of his voice, so long absent from her ears.

"And speaking of bells," the archer continued charmingly, "I'm afraid I owe you and your sisters an apology. It was my arrow set your bell ringing. I hope it didn't cause any unrest among you."

Isabella merely shook her head silently behind her veil.

"Good! But, for your inconvenience, I would like to make this donation to help you in your kindly charities."

Robin handed Isabella a purse heavy with silver.

Excellent! Isabella was thinking. This would pay for the damask for her new bedcurtains, as well as cover the expense of sending to France for a delivery of quail eggs. Isabella so loved the taste of quail eggs, and the english ones just didn't taste as delectable as those laid in France. Her palate was very discriminating.

...

Robin was wondering how this meeting with the veiled and silent abbess could be productive. He did his best to curb his impatience, feeling he was wasting time here in the abbey, talking to an abbess who didn't respond.

Right now, he was longing to leave here and drive Apollo at a furious gallop all the way home. What he'd say to Marian when he arrived, he did not know. All he knew was, he longed to face her and search her eyes for assurance she loved him. And then, once he found what he was looking for, he planned to kiss away whatever lingering thoughts and feelings she had for her first husband, that hideous Guy of Gisbourne, from her heart and mind.

Friar Tuck's next words drew Robin's attention back to the task at hand.

"The witch is more dangerous than we feared, Mother," Tuck was saying. "Robin here is testament to that! She overpowered him with her charms and potions, and stole away his memory!"

Surprisingly, considering her vow of silence, the abbess now spoke.

"She stole away your memory?" she echoed, addressing Robin. "You remember nothing?"

"For a brief time, yes, Mother. I've since regained a good portion of my memories. Now I can recall my childhood and early youth. But," he emphasized, "anything past those years eludes me."

There was a brief silence as Isabella processed the information. And then, to the surprise of both men, she removed the veil covering her face, and looked directly into Robin's eyes.

He caught his breath, then smiled at her. He did appreciate a beautiful face, and the abbess was definitely blessed with one, though he found the veil unnecessary, if indeed she wore it to prevent men from suffering temptation. For although her features were practically perfect, Robin believed she couldn't hold a candle to Marian's beauty, even with his wife's silly little nose and strong chin. Not to mention the small raised mole just under the right side of her lower lip, which frequently drove Robin to distraction.

Surprisingly, the abbess was staring intensely at him with a look that was anything but reverent or holy. Robin was well acquainted with that look! For although he had lost all memory of being studied in such a manner in recent years, he recognized it from having been ogled by interested women since he was fourteen.

Just as he began to grow uncomfortable under the abbess's hungry gaze, her expression shifted to one of lofty aestheticism.

"I believe I must go to the witch and try my best to lead her to our Lord, before it is too late for her," Isabella said, beginning her plan. "Can you lead me to her, my lord?"

"Is that wise?" Robin asked. "And please, don't call me 'my lord.' "

"What shall I call you then?" Isabella asked, in a husky voice belonging more to the bedroom than the abbey. Its tone took Robin slightly off guard.

"Please call me 'Robin.' Everyone else does."

"Very well, Robin."

Isabella couldn't stop herself from openly flirting with him. His obvious nervousness was so thrilling! She loved wielding this power over him. She hadn't tasted it in years, and couldn't give it up, not just yet.

Let him have a new memory! Let him stew in his bed tonight, tossing and burning for the forbidden fruit of the abbey!

Perhaps, if she went about it carefully, Robin could yet be hers! He had clearly forgotten their past, with its rancor and bitterness. They could begin anew, and this time, she would avoid the mistakes she'd made before.

Now, what besides allure would draw him to her? Isabella smiled slyly beneath her veil, plotting a way to get Locksley to save her from the witch, in a daring and dangerous rescue.


	33. Chapter 33

"Well," Robin said to Tuck as they slowly rode homeward to Locksley, "that was a colossal waste of time, I think."

"How so, my son?"

Robin chuckled under his breath. "What did we accomplish by meeting with the abbess? We've come to no consensus on what to do with the witch. We have no plan. The only thing I can boast is I can tell my curious wife that I looked on the face of the abbess, and assure Marian she has nothing to be jealous of."

Robin's good humor faded by his own words. He wished he could say the same for himself. But every step his horse took, leading him closer and closer toward home, reminded him that Marian had once rejected him and married another man. Once that man had died, she had only settled for him, by agreeing to be his wife. Such were his misinformed thoughts as his horse plodded homewards at the pace suited for Tuck, and they ate at him, bringing his anger and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

"I think we should consider informing the sheriff about the witch, Tuck," Robin said, "before she practices more of her necromancy, and harms somebody else."

"The sheriff will burn her, Robin. Do you condone that?"

"I condone justice. I condone making certain my family and my people are safe. Don't forget, she had my little girl's doll, which says to me my child might be a target. Cowards always seek to hurt the innocent."

"Hold off, I implore you, until the abbess and I can at least try to teach her the ways of the Lord and redeem her, please, Robin."

"So you consider the slim possibility of saving her blackened soul greater than the safety of my people? You only want the glory of bringing someone to God, I think."

"It will be God's glory, not mine," Tuck replied, mildly chastising his friend.

"You have one week, no more," Robin informed him decisively. "And, if she continues practicing her filthy arts, make no mistake, I will go to the sheriff and lead him to her myself."

"You will not regret it, Robin. Did not the Lord create the entire world in seven days? Surely, with Mother Bella's help, we can turn around one small sinner in the same number of days!" Tuck crossed himself, and, except for the deep rumbling in his belly, remained silent for the rest of the journey.

...

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Robin rode Apollo at a brisk pace into his yard, to see his two little girls jumping up and down in a garden of flowering plants.

"How did this happen?" he asked, looking with amazement all around him, as he climbed down from the saddle.

Marian, dressed in a simple gown, with hair tied back and a smudge of dirt on her cheek, proudly told him, "We've been busy."

"We planted flowers, Daddy!" Ellen cried.

"I digged up worms," Grace said. "Look, Daddy!"

"And a very pretty worm you dug, Handful," her father grinned.

"Robin, don't call her that," Marian objected.

"I meant it with affection," he snapped, defensively.

"She's Apple Blossom," Marian corrected him. "You've called her Apple Blossom since she was a baby, because she used to be so round and rosy."

"Then I should have called her 'Apple.' Apple blossoms are neither round, nor rosy. They're white."

"They're rosy," Marian insisted. "Don't be so literal. What happened to you, anyway?"

"I just learned more about my past is all," he answered, in a cold, hard voice. "So," he continued thoughtfully, "if I gave her a nickname at her birth, that must mean she's my child."

Marian stared at him in puzzled disbelief. "Girls, go in the house and ask Bridget for a snack. I think there are strawberries, and cream."

Obediantly, the little girls help hands and trotted into the manor.

"Now," Marian said, wheeling around to look Robin in the eye, "what did you mean by that last comment?"

He was hurting worse than he expected, and lashed out spitefully. "I just want to know which of the children are mine. The boy, obviously. He has my eyes. And from what you just told me, Grace must be mine, as well. But Ellen? I'm her 'Daddy,' and I'll continue to be. But I want to know, Marian. Is she mine, or Gisbourne's?"

_Smack! _Robin felt his face burn with the impact of Marian slapping it with every bit of force she could put behind the blow.

"How dare you?" she asked, in a frigid voice filled with disgust.

Without another word, she ran into the house and up the stairs to their bedchamber. Bolting the door behind her, she cried furious tears as she pounded her fists into his pillow.


	34. Chapter 34

Robin, trying to master his feelings of anger and insecurity, strode into his home. His cheek flared red from where Marian had slapped it, but he hid it by placing it in his hand as he joined his two small daughters at the dining table.

"Her Ladyship said they might have strawberries and cream," their nurse Bridget informed the master. "It's well nigh suppertime, and they're likely to spoil their appetites if they have anymore."

"Nothing better for them than strawberries and cream," Robin smiled. "Right, girls?"

"Right!" they chorused.

Robin sat looking at these two beautiful treasures, their mouths and tiny fingers all stickey with berries. Why had he been such an oaf, to question their paternity? What did it matter who had sired them? They were each adorable in their own unique way, showering him with pure love, trust, and affection. Once again, he felt unworthy of the gifts God had bestowed on him.

"Tell us a story, Daddy," Ellen begged.

"Dragon story," Grace insisted.

"Alright," he said, cheering up from their sweet company. "Let me think...I know a wonderful dragon story! Have you ever heard of Saint George and the Dragon?"

"No, Daddy," Ellen giggled. "Tell us the real dragon story."

"Dragon story," Grace repeated emphatically.

"You'll like this," he assured them. "It was one of my favorites when I was a boy. In fact, it was what first peaked my desire to travel to the Holy Land, to fight the infidel. You see, this story was brought to England by some of King Henry's Crusaders, who told it to me, when I was just a bit older than you."

"We want Tom and Lizzie and the toy dragon. Do the funny voices, Daddy," Ellen insisted.

"Tom and Wizzie!" Grace was adamant in wanting to hear the "real" dragon story her father had told her so many, many times before.

"I'm afraid I don't remember the one about Tom and Lizzie, but listen to this one. There once lived a fierce, fire breathing, plague spewing dragon-"

"Tom and Wizzie!" Grace began to cry. Ellen sat calmly by, knowing her little sister would soon throw one of her tremendous fits, if their Daddy didn't begin telling them about Tom, the toy maker's apprentice, Lizzie the armorer, and the toy dragon they created to frighten away the real dragon.

"Don't cry, Gracie," Robin coaxed, lifting her onto his lap. "You'll like my new story even better, I promise. Now, the people living near the dragon had to feed it two sheep every day, just to keep it from breathing fire on everything in sight-"

Grace began kicking her chubby legs and lifted her voice to wail out her objections.

"Grace, stop crying, now. I told you, I don't remember your story. I was just about to get to the part about the beautiful princess."

Grace only wailed louder.

"She wants for you to tell her the other dragon story, Master Robin," Bridget told him calmly, as if used to Grace's wails, for she was. "The one where you use those funny voices."

"I don't remember it," Robin hissed, growing frustrated.

Suddenly, without knowing why, tears formed in his eyes, and he found himself blinking them back. Bridget Thornton was not alarmed. Having grown up around Robin of Locklsey, she knew he had a full heart to match his bravery and skill at arms, and she had seen him shed a few tears before today.

Grace continued wailing, as loudly as she knew how, and Robin hugged her small body against his chest, feeling incapable of helping his small daughter. "Don't cry, Gracie," he said soothingly, smoothing her hair, his voice choked with emotion.

Glancing over her head, his eyes locked with those of his other daughter. To his amazement, the little girl's eyes were also brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he told Ellen helplessly. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I don't care about the story, Daddy," the little girl said sweetly. "I'm crying because you're so sad. Don't cry, Daddy. Please don't cry."

Robin stared into the child's eyes, and felt a charge ignite through his body. He didn't care whose child she truly was. He loved her, loved her with his whole heart.

The very next moment, his mind instantly supplied the image of her as a newborn, wrapped in a soft blanket of Huntington green, being placed in his arms by Matilda. His firstborn! He remembered exactly, the miraclulous and incredible feeling of falling immediately in love with her as he looked into her tiny red face, and all the strength of his love for her came rushing back.

With only one arm around Grace now, he reached out his other to draw Ellen close to his heart.


	35. Chapter 35

With Edward balanced on her hip and the grey kitten Moonlight scampering at her heels, Marian descended the staircase in her home to learn why Grace was raising such a loud cry.

Entering the great hall, she stood still at the sight of Robin holding both girls in his arms, his beard stickey with strawberries from his daughters' fingers, his eyes moistened with freshly shed tears.

Marian hardened her heart against him, handed Bridget the baby, and practically tore her wailing toddler from her husband's embrace.

"Gracie! What is it? What did he say to you, Precious?" She turned angry accusing eyes on Robin.

Setting Ellen down, Robin rose politely to his feet.

"I tried to tell the wrong story," he explained simply, tired from the emotional upheavals within him.

"Perhaps you should silence your tongue, before it utters more blasphemy."

"Marian." Robin's eyes and voice desperately sought her forgiveness. She steeled herself and ignored their plea.

"The children need to eat," she told Bridget, although both girls were stuffed with berries and cream. "I am not hungry."

She placed Grace at her seat at the table, crouched gracefully down to be on the child's eye level, wiped away the last remnants of tears, and told both girls, "I need some fresh air, but I'll return soon. Be good girls and eat your supper."

"We're not hungry, Mama," Ellen told her.

"Eat," Marian insisted, too distraught to care. Standing up fully, she turned and hurried out the door. To her extreme annoyance, Robin followed her.

"Ian, saddle Llamrei," she told the horse master. "I'm going for a ride."

Robin began to saddle Apollo himself.

"You're not coming with me," Marian snapped at her husband. "I don't want your company."

"Marian, we need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Then you need to listen."

Ian was used to hearing his master and mistress argue. He knew there would be sparks now, and sparks of a different nature between them later. Unconcerned, he tested Llamrei's bridle, then handed Marian the reins.

She hurriedly mounted her horse and sent him galloping. Robin, astride Apollo, kept pace.

"Go away," Marian charged him, shouting above the pounding hoofbeats of the horses.

"Not until you hear my apology," he called back to her.

Marian did all she could to lose him, changing direction at the last possible second, leaping over impossibly high obstacles, riding over steep, rocky terrain. Any other riders would have been unseated long since, but both of them were uncommonly good on horseback.

"I'm sorry, Marian," Robin called to her.

"You should be!" she shouted back.

She reined her horse and let him walk in a circle as she argued with Robin, who did the same with his horse, counterclockwise from hers.

"How dare you make such an unjust accusation against me?" Marian stormed. "I thought we'd finished with your jealousy towards Gisbourne years ago."

"We might have. I don't remember."

"You don't remember my character? You accuse me of infidelity, and dishonor?"

"I don't know the facts!"

"You don't know anything."

So saying, she dug her heels into her horse's sides and took off at a gallop once more.

Robin gave a frustrated cry, dug in his own heels, and raced after her.

They rode even more wildly than before, both of them wishing they could better enjoy the thrill, but their hearts weighed too heavily to relish the danger.

At last, charging at a furious pace toward Bonchurch Lodge, Marian's horse stumbled, and went down head first as a foreleg buckled. Marian went sailing over its head, to land and turn somersaults on the ground. Robin had been following her so closely, he couldn't stop his horse in time, and he went flying from the saddle as well, to land next to Marian in the dirt.

"What are you two doing?" Much cried, rushing from his house to peer down at them as they lay, panting and breathless, on the ground. "Unbelievable! I saw how ridiculously fast you two were riding from my window. What were you thinking?"

Both wore expressions of chagrin, once the shock of falling wore off. Much shook his head at them and continued scolding.

"Get up. Your horses are alright. Come inside. It's time for supper. Be sure to wipe your feet first. Unbelievable!" he muttered to himself, turning and leading the way into his home.

Robin brushed off his knees, then stood and brushed off his bottom. He held a hand out to help Marian rise, but she swatted it distastefully away.

Rising on her own shakey legs, she stormed past Robin and entered Bonchurch Lodge.

Robin, smiling, followed her. Much would help him clear up the mystery. He was sure he was going to enjoy this meal very much.


	36. Chapter 36

Eve threw Much a questioning look when she saw her husband lead Lord and Lady Locksley through her door and on to her table. The nobles looked windblown, with mussed hair and flushed faces, and while Robin wore a smile, the Lady Marian appeared as if about to explode. Eve guessed the couple had been arguing, with Robin getting in the last word, though he wasn't wearing that smug look that might have graced his features. Instead, he was smiling at Eve most congenially, as if meeting her for the first time.

Of course! Much had gone on and on, and on and on and on, about how the witch had stolen Robin's memory! To Lord Locksley's mind, they had never met before.

"You're most welcome to Bonchurch, my lord, milady," Eve told them, curtseying.

Although Much and Robin insisted she not treat him formally, Eve couldn't bring herself to believe they were "equals" whenever initially confronted by the Earl of Huntington. A few moments in his open and friendly company always dispelled her nervousness, for he even treated her servants as people worthy of his friendship.

"Men should be judged on their worth, not their wealth," he had told her, and Much had grinned at her as if to say, "Didn't I tell you?"

Robin's breeding trumped his curiosity now, for he longed to stare at Much's wife and children. He was extremely pleased to see his best friend set up as a lord in Bonchurch, surrounded by a beautiful wife and children.

One of those children, a chubby little boy who looked nearly identical to Much when he'd been a lad, approached Robin now.

"Hello," Robin said kindly, crouching down to smile into the child's eyes.

"Woof! Woof!" the child barked.

"Tweeks!" Much cried. "You are not the family watchdog!"

"Tweeks?" Robin asked the boy. "Is that your name?"

Marian turned her face away and stared out the window. She wasn't ready to forgive her husband yet, but when he spoke in that sweet voice he used with children, her heart always warmed towards him. She reminded herself what he had said to her in her garden, refueling her anger.

"Woof!" Tweeks barked, then climbed into his seat at the table.

"We call him Tweeks because it took us two weeks to finally settle on a name," Much explained.

"And what is his name, if may I ask?"

Eve noticed Robin continued to adopt his "company manners" with her, feeling they had just met.

"Robin!" Much answered proudly.

"I'm honored," he grinned.

At that, Marian spoke, though so quietly only Robin could hear her. "No wonder they gave him a nickname, when his namesake continues to prove himself a fool!"

Robin shot her an angry glare, and Much grew anxious. Eve sighed, resigned to forgo what would have been a peaceful evening with her family, lacking in drama.

...

"I won't bother you tell me about yourself," Robin said charmingly to Eve at the first course, "unless you want to. Bits and pieces of my memory are coming back, so I'm hoping I'll remember everything within the fortnight, or 'Tweeks,' as you will." He winked at Much's son, causing Marian to visibly fume. "But, I think I've come to the right house to learn the details of my past I'm missing, and that of my wife's."

Marian put down her knife and raised her eyebrows at him. "My husband," she said, glaring at Robin but addressing Much and Eve, "is so full of himself, he wishes all conversations to revolve around him. But you needn't tell him anything about me. He's already concocted his own vile history, to slander my character."

"I hardly think, my lady wife," Robin advised with vain superiority, "this is the place to air our disagreements."

Much's eyes darted nervously back and forth between Robin and Marian, while Eve focused her attention on her children.

"Yes! Of course! The things you don't recall!" Much took up the challenge, hoping to ease away Marian's attacks on Robin, and his ensuing anger. "Where shall I begin?"

"Begin with Gisbourne," Robin insisted coldly, not taking his eyes off his wife's face, which stared back at him furiously. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne, the tall, broad shouldered, handsome knight, who showed such kindness to my village, its people can't speak his name aloud without fear, even today."

"Gisbourne!" Much cried. "So that's why you're arguing!"

"Arguing? Me?" Robin uttered a small, scoffing laugh. "I'm merely asking you to tell me what everybody else at this table already knows."

"You want to know how close he got to Marian, that's what you want to know! Please! You really need to bury your jealousy, Robin, once and for all."

"Thank you, Much," Marian said, turning her eyes away from Robin at last. "You won't believe what depths his jealousy sunk him to this time."

"As bad as that time we had Gisbourne tied up with us in Sherwood, and I kept having to stop Robin from killing him?"

A flicker of memory returned to Robin. He could actually picture the black clad knight, bound to a tree and gagged, eyes cold with fear and hatred, glowering at him.

"He tried to kill the king!" Robin realized. Turning on Marian, he cried, "You married that traitor?"


	37. Chapter 37

"You know I had no choice," Marian shot back at Robin, after his accusation of her marrying Gisbourne. "Besides, I didn't go through with it. What? Did you think I had?"

"Didn't you?"

"Never!"

Robin and Marian stared at one another in astonished relief, not even seeming to be aware of the company of Much and Eve and their small, blond headed, blue eyed children at Bonchurch Lodge.

"But," Robin argued, cracking a smile, "the tavern keeper told me you'd married him...that I was only your second choice."

"Allan!" Much exclaimed. "I knew it! I knew Allan was behind this!"

"Why would Allan tell you such a tale?" Marian asked, wanting to head straight to the Trip Inn and strangle their fast talking friend. "Oh, Robin, he must have been playing a joke on you!"

"Some joke," Robin sniffed. "That man was full of jests, none of which were funny."

"Really?" Much asked. "Not funny? You used to find him hilarious! Why, I remember one night in the forest, all of us sitting around the fire, Allan had you splitting your sides with his story about scaling the walls of Ripley Convent, just to make certain all the novices really were virgins. Oh! Sorry! I shouldn't have said that!"

"Robin, you didn't go with him on that convent scaling expedition, did you?" Marian asked.

"I don't know! I can't remember anything, remember?"

Robin had a moment of worry, for an erotic image flashed in his mind, and he was pretty certain the woman identically resembled the Abbess of Kirklees. He brushed it aside, feeling guilty.

"It was just one of Allan's stories, Marian," Much assured her. "Nothing to worry about. The only holy woman Robin ever kissed was that Abbess of Rutherford."

"Has she recently moved to Kirklees?" Robin asked, nervously.

"No. She was an abbess who wasn't an abbess. She was a thief," Much informed him. "Remember, Robin?"

"She was a charleton," Marian asserted. "You had no business kissing her."

Robin's head was spinning. "May we get back to your wedding?" he asked. "Or rather, your wedding that wasn't?"

"Oh, there was a wedding, alright," Much corrected him. "Marian was all set to say her vows, even though she didn't want to."

"Much was my hero that hour," Marian said, kissing her fingertips and lightly touching them to Much's cheek. "He saved me from a fate worse than death."

"I saved you from marrying Gisbourne the Grotesque."

"Please, must we speak of him? Robin, Allan was lying. For in spite of what you accused me of in my garden, you have always been one of my first choices in husbands."

"One of them?" Robin repeated, grinning.

She didn't use words to respond, but sat at her place at the table, smiling at him, her face aglow with love.

Suddenly, neither one of them were hungry, nor interested in conversation. They simply longed to be alone with one another, to make up their argument.

Robin could read her longing for him in her eyes, and his own gaze echoed it. "Excuse us, please," he said, his throat gone dry while his palms began to tingle. Rising, he pushed back his chair and offered his hand to Marian.

"We need to be getting home," she agreed, as if in a trance, not looking at her host and hostess, but spellbound by her husband's blue eyed gaze.

"Goodbye!" Much called fondly, watching walk out his door. "Glad to have been of help! That's alright, no need to thank me, again! Be careful riding home!"

But they didn't go home immediately, even though Robin wanted nothing so much as to shut himself up alone with her in their bedroom. They first took a detour to where Knighton Hall had once stood, to survey the once charred ground and help Robin remember everything he'd forgotten.


	38. Chapter 38

Robin felt lighthearted riding alongside Marian as they made their way home by way of Knighton. Unknowingly, he believed his wife was leading him east because she wanted to drop by her former home to pay a quick visit to her father. He was looking forward to seeing Sir Edward again.

"Looking up, Marian," Robin said cheerfully, "I see a lot of mistletoe in these trees. Which means, I owe you scores of kisses. Care to dismount now and let me get started?"

Marian didn't respond. Drawing near to Knighton reopened wounds that would never heal completely. She averted her face from Robin as her heart grieved anew.

"Where's your house?" Robin asked in a panic, missing the top of the roof that should have appeared through the trees.

Breaking through the trees to open field, Robin reined his horse in astonishment. Knighton Hall was gone.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice choked.

He pulled his eyes away from the vacant ground to look upon Marian's face, white and somber, tears glistening in her eyes.

Leaping from Apollo's back, he rushed to his wife. She slid down her horse's side, straight into Robin's arms. He held her tightly, swaying gently from side to side, trying to rock away her tears.

Robin held his tongue, not wanting to hurt her by asking the question that plagued him. Since Knighton Hall was gone, Sir Edward ought to have moved to Locksley, to live with them. But he hadn't. Robin could only guess that Sir Edward dwelt now in the company of angels. Tears welled up in his own eyes.

Marian steeled herself and leaned back, still in his arms, to meet his gaze. The sight of his tears sent hers flowing, and they held one another close, each grieving for the other's sorrow.

When at last their tears stopped flowing, they clasped hands, and walked toward the spot where the house used to stand.

The ground was no longer charred, and meadow grasses and clover had returned to take possession, scenting the air with their freshness.

"Gisbourne burned down your house," Robin realized, regaining yet another memory. "God grant, he's burning for it in Hell."

"Don't hate him. It only destroys us."

"Let me rebuild, Marian! I remember every timber, and what I don't remember, you do."

"We've talked about it, and decided against it, Sweetheart. It wouldn't bring my father back."

Robin tenderly brushed a lingering tear from her cheek. "How did he die?"

Before she could answer, he drew in a quick breath. "It's good to dream," he uttered, another memory restored.

She threw her arms around his neck and they clung together once again.

"Take me home, my love," Marian said. "No more grieving."

He nodded, and they mounted their horses sadly to head toward Locksley, where love, joy, and laughter would banish their grief.

...

The following morning, Robin lay with Marian in his arms, basking in the moment, while a soft spring rain pattered gently on their roof.

"Hmm," Marian stretched and resettled into his embrace. "I absolutely adore mornings like this," she cooed.

He tilted her face toward his and placed his mouth over hers, to drink deep her kiss.

They drew apart to smile at one another, and she placed her head against his heart and let her fingertips dance lightly over his shoulder and collarbone.

"You have the sweetest body, my husband."

"You love me for my body? I feel so used."

"You wish. But I'm not that kind of girl."

She pulled away teasingly, as if to get up, and he pulled her back to him and rolled on top.

"Not so fast, my love. Let's stay here, at least till the rain lets up."

She giggled as he brushed playful kisses over her face and neck. "It's the sort that promises to last all day!"

"Exactly."

They kissed again, then gazed at each other with dazzling smiles.

"I have something to tell you," Robin confessed happily. "Overnight, my memory returned. Fully, I think. All traces of the witch's treachery fogging up my brain are gone."

"Robin, that's wonderful! You remember being Robin Hood, and our wedding, and the children's births?"

"Everything! All three weddings, in fact! I think I owe Djaq an apology for being so cold to her. I didn't remember Acre, and I distrusted her for being Saracen."

"Well, forgetting some things was a mercy for you. You didn't have any nightmares."

"I can deal with those, if they return."

"Get off my leg. You're squishing me."

Marian was ecstatically happy that Robin was himself again, but comfort was comfort, after all.

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Squish me instead. I can take it. After all, I'm Robin Hood."

"No one's squishing anyone again this morning, Handsome. We've had enough of that."

"But we need to celebrate my memory's return!"

"We need to get up and get ready for Mass. I don't want us to be late again. Friar Tuck's been very patient with us, Robin, but it doesn't look good to straggle in late, every Sunday."

"Alright. Milady makes a good point. Now, where are my trousers?"

"Wear a clean pair. We're not living in the forest any longer."

They dressed hurriedly, helping one another with laces that couldn't be reached alone, rather than summoning servants awake so early.

"I need to talk with Tuck after Mass," Robin told Marian. "I need to caution him about dealing with that witch alone. He thinks he can convert her, he and the Abbess of-"

Robin froze, his mouth dropping open.

"What is it?" Marian asked.

Robin recovered himself. Determination blazed in his eyes. "Make my excuses to Tuck, Marian. I'll be attending Mass at Kirklees this morning."


	39. Chapter 39

Robin slipped unnoticed into Kirklees Abbey's church and slid his seat into a back pew, as the choir sang the Gloria in excelsis. By driving his horse hard, he'd only missed a portion of the service.

Looking down the nave toward the altar, he spied Isabella of Gisbourne, her face hidden behind a veil, officiating the Mass. Robin stopped himself from charging her at the altar, and tried his best to focus his mind on the service, to worship his Lord Jesus and nourish his soul. There would be time enough later to face Isabella.

Robin listened with apt attention as the Liturgy of the Word was read in Latin, taking the messages to heart. But when Isabella rose to deliver the sermon, his stomach churned.

Her familiar voice brought all his feelings of disgust for her treachery bubbling to the surface of his soul. How could she be an abbess? How dare she fool these good people, her words imploring them to lead lives devoid of sin, when her own life was filled with it? Robin wanted to stand up and mock her for sounding so holy and devout, when he knew her heart was drenched in sin.

At last, the sermon concluded, and he recited the Nicene Creed along with the entire congregation. Intercessions folllowed, then came the Liturgy of the Eucharist, or Holy Communion. Robin waited in line with the other worshippers for his turn to kneel at the altar and accept the bread and wine.

Having been seated in a back pew, he was one of the last ones to receive the Eucharist. Kneeling before the altar rails, he opened his mouth to await the bread to be placed on his tongue.

Isabella, garbed in her fanciful Sunday habit, hidden behind a veil, suddenly stood before him. He could have leapt to his feet and crushed her throat in his hands, except for the fact that she was a woman, and he had sworn never to lay a hand on any of the fair sex, no matter how vile. All he could do was lift his eyes to her face, which he did, even though it was hidden from his sight behind a veil.

Nevertheless, she had seen the piercing look in his eyes, and she knew her secret was undone.

Isabella rushed through the remainder of the service, omitting entire required prayers and litanies, in her hurry to be done and escape Robin's eyes.

Once the benediction was bestowed, she departed quickly through the sacristry to take refuge in her lush, private chambers.

She was panting heavily when she closed her door, shutting herself safely inside.

Tearing off her veil, she collapsed onto a velvet cushion and fanned herself, thankful to have escaped Robin of Locklsey.

But her relief was short lived, for somehow, his voice reached her from a corner of her room.

"Well now," it said, its golden tones reminding Isabella of his luscious caress, "you finished that rather quickly."

"Not as quickly as you, when making love, Robin," she shot back. "You hold the record, I think, for hastiness."

"That was only because I realized what a huge mistake I was making with you."

"Perhaps," she said coyly, "or perhaps it was because you burned for me so deeply, you couldn't hold back."

"No," he replied, laughing mockingly. "So," he continued, glad to change the subject, "you're the Abbess of Kirklees! I am surprised, Isabella. I'd expect the church doors to burst into flame at your approach."

"You needn't mock me, Robin. I've given my life to God now. I'm a changed woman."

"I doubt it."

"Why? Does it stab your sweet, precious conscience to think of me in my new vocation? Why would your conscience be troubled, if you didn't spend some of your time remembering what we once shared? That is, assuming your memory has returned?"

"It's returned, but I never think of you, Isabella."

"No? Then why are you here, Robin? Why did you rush to confront me so early this morning? Shouldn't you be back in your pitiful little village church, seated alongside your pretty little wife and darling little children, listening to that overweight tub of lard huff and bluff his way through the Liturgy?"

"Because, Isabella, I want to learn what you're up to."

"Up to? Why, Robin! I'm an innocent Abbess now! I've taken the veil, can't you see?"

"I see you're living in splendour. How much church money did you spend on this rug? No wonder the people living near Kirklees go hungry every night."

"Well then, why doesn't Robin Hood come and feed them? Or have you grown bored with helping the poor?"

"I still help the poor."

"Yes, so I've heard. Everyone loves you! You're a saint in people's eyes, Robin. Too bad they don't know you as I do. If only they could listen to you confess the sins you committed with me. After all, you were already married at the time. And don't make the excuse you believed your wife dead. You knew full well I was a married woman. Tsk tsk, Robin. That's called adultery you know, and you'll burn in hell for it."

"I confessed my sin, and repented as soon as I guessed your treachery. Can you say the same?"

"Oh, my confessions are the envy of the abbey. If you see the sisters studying you with avid interest, just know they're wondering what it was like coupling with you. But never fear, I won't tell them how disappointing it was."

Robin glared at her. Again, he wondered what he was doing, wasting his time in her company. He'd found out nothing, but only felt soiled from spending time with her. He decided to leave, but issued a warning before he departed.

"You had better distribute alms fairly and generously, Isabella, or I'll appeal to Geoffrey, Archbishop of York, and he'll come down on you like a-"

"Yes, yes. I know your relationship with the bastard. Like you, he adored the late king, but he and John squabble like a pair of fighting cocks at a fair. Tattle on me all you like, Robin, if it'll make you feel better."

"I'm warning you, Isabella-"

"I'm warning _you, _Robin of Locksley! You had better watch your step. You've had relations with a witch, and have harbored her under your protection, when you ought to have turned her in to the sheriff. Why is that, Robin? One word from me to Sheriff Willfred about you protecting the silver haired crone, and you'll find yourself back in the dungeon. But this time, you won't be waiting to be hung. Oh, no. This time, you'll be tied to a stake, to have your strong muscles roasted from your bones. Be warned, Robin. One word from me, a holy Mother of the Church, and you'll be facing a death so gruesome, so painful, your little war wounds will feel like scratches. Oh, and I won't stop there. Didn't your loyal friend, Lord Bonchurch, visit Gwyan's cave with you? And what about your wife? She was there as well! A triple execution! Nottingham hasn't seen so much fun since Vaisey lost his position, and his life."

"I will go to the sheriff now, and expose you for the hypocrite you are!"

"Oh, Robin. You never could control your temper, when it comes to protecting your sweet Marian. Never fear, I'm only making sure you know the lay of the land. Be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you. Perhaps."

...

Robin couldn't hurry fast enough to get away from the abbey. Unknown to him, a figure hiding behind her own horse watched him as he departed.

Pushing her hood back from her face, she approached the abbey gates and asked to be shown into the abbess's presence.


	40. Chapter 40

Robin was nearly halfway home before it hit him he had seen Marian's horse Llamrei in front of the abbey. Swearing in French under his breath, he steered Apollo around to head back the way he'd come.

It would take more than the rain falling over him to cool him now. He didn't want Marian mixed up in this. "If that viper says one word to upset you..." he was thinking, then could almost hear Marian's voice arguing she was perfectly capable of handling Isabella of Gisbourne.

The same way she had always claimed she was capable of handling Guy.

"I'm coming, my love. I'm coming," Robin murmured, digging his heels into his horse's sides to drive him faster.

...

Isabella was in a flurry of excitement. First, an unexpected visit from Robin, and now, one from his wife? "Show her in," she commanded the trembling nun who had informed her that Lady Locksley requested an audience.

"Your Grace? In here? In your own private chambers? Why not the locutorium? I always thought Your Grace ordered me never to show visitors in here."

Isabella slapped the nun across her cheek, sending her reeling backwards. "Do as you're told, minion!"

It was true, she had ordered the stupid nuns to keep all visitors away. It wouldn't do, after all, for the greedy populace to witness her opulent furnishings. But this visitor was different! Isabella couldn't wait for Marian to view the splendor of her surroundings. Locksley Manor, in its simplicity, could boast of nothing half so grand.

While the injured nun hastened to gather Lady Locksley, Isabella readjusted her veil to cover her face. Robin would likely tell his wife her identity, so she didn't disguise herself to protect her secret. She only wanted to toy with Marian for awhile, then witness the expression on her face when she pulled her veil aside.

"Lady Locksley, Your Grace," the nun announced, ushering Marian into Isabella's private quarters.

Marian, Isabella noticed, was mud splattered but not too wet, considering she had ridden all the way from Locksley in the rain. Of course, the nuns had taken her wet cloak, to let it dry by the fire. Good! Isabella would be furious should the woman drip on her new rugs from Persia. It was bad enough Robin had tracked in mud, the handsome fiend. She'd like to spank him for it, licking her lips at the thought.

Marian raised her eyebrows at the sight of so much wealth on display. She had never set foot in the abbey's private chambers, and this was not what she'd expected to find. She was certain the previous abbess had not lived so. Indignant anger made her cheeks flush.

"Mother," she said, mastering her voice to speak politely. "Forgive my intrusion. I am Lady Marian of Locksley. I believe you've recently made the acquaintance of my lord husband, Sir Robin, the Earl of Huntington."

"I believe our paths might have crossed," Isabella answered, in sepulchred tones. And our bodies entangled, her thoughts added, with satisfaction.

"Forgive me, Mother, I do not know your name."

"I am called Mother Bella." Isabella wanted to laugh aloud.

"Mother Bella. I hardly know why I'm here. Please tell me, have you seen my husband this morning? I mean, I know he attended Mass here at the abbey. I saw him depart."

"Refresh my memory. Describe your husband to me."

Marian smiled. The abbess must have truly led a sequestered life away from men, not to remember her husband after meeting him!

"He stands six feet tall, Your Grace, and is a very comely man."

"That is a subjective statement, my child. All of God's creations are beautiful in His sight."

"Yes, of course. But my husband is especially beautiful, in anyone's sight."

"You err, my child, in being too fond of outward appearances. See that you curb this sin of yours."

Marian's temper flared. "You asked me to describe him to you, Mother. I am only doing as you requested."

"Very well. Continue. You have not made yourself clear."

"My husband is well built, and strong of limb. His hair is light brown, and his eyes are blue. He wears a very short beard, trimmed close to his face."

"Is that the only thing that is short on his person?"

Marian didn't understand the question. Surely the Mother wasn't implying...?

Marian had grown used to hearing such naughty implications from royalty, but she would never have expected it from the mouth of an Abbess!

"You do not need to answer, my child. You and I both know the answer to my question."

Isabella watched in satisfaction at Marian's growing sense of confusion. It was time for the unmasking.

As if on cue, the unmistakeable sound of an arrow sizzled from the open window into the room, and lodged itself to throb noisily in the wooden beam, just inches from the abbess's left ear. The arrow sported striped fletching, almost proudly.

"Robin!" Both women uttered his name in unison.


	41. Chapter 41

And suddenly, somehow, Robin himself stood among them.

Isabella peeled back the veil from her face, bringing forth a gasp from Marian's lips.

"Surprised?" Isabella sneered at her.

Marian glared with hatred at the woman she wrongfully regarded as her rival. She knew her own jealousy toward Isabella was as misplaced as Robin's had been toward Guy, but it plagued her nonetheless.

"Really, Robin!" Isabella scolded, carefully masking her fear. His arrow had soared so close to her cheek, her veil had ruffled in the breeze the arrow had created as it whistled past. "Always so dramatic! You might have simply flagged down one of my servants to announce you into my presence."

"Servants?" Marian asked. "The sisters did not take the veil to be _your_ servants, but God's!"

Isabella groaned. "Oh, you two grow more and more alike with each passing year! That could have just as easily come out of _his_ mouth."

Robin moved to stand beside his wife. Taking her elbow in his hand, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"You might have saved me a trip by explaining your own behavior this morning," Marian whispered back. "What did you expect me to do, Robin? Stay at home and work on my embroidery, while you dashed off to Kirklees on an adventure?"

Despite Isabella's proximity, Robin had to grin at that. "You couldn't locate an embroidery needle in our house, much less wield one," he teased her, tapping her affectionately on her nose and throwing in a charming wink.

"I could so."

"I doubt it."

"I could! I'd go to Bette, and she'd give me one." Bette had recently been hired as wetnurse turned seamstress, when Marian insisted on nursing their baby herself.

Isabella did not enjoy being ignored. "Feel free to carry on your little spat outside my abbey walls. Goodbye."

She had no intention to see them go yet, not before she had stirred up strife between them. Removing her nun veil and wimple, she provocatively shook down her glossy hair, then attached ruby earrings to her earlobes.

"I didn't think nuns wore earrings," Marian complained.

"They don't wear this, either," Isabella agreed, emerging from behind a screen in a semi sheer scarlet nightdress.

Robin's eyes bulged, until Marian stomped on his foot. Then he turned injured eyes on his wife.

"What was that for?" he whined.

"You know very well, and if you don't, you are a fool."

Excellent! Isabella was thinking. Let the strife begin!

"You were looking at her," Marian continued. "And if you tell me it was just the way your eyes were pointing, I'll stomp on your foot so hard, you'll walk with a limp till Christmas!"

Robin chuckled, then smiled at Marian with gleaming eyes. He wished they were alone, so he could kiss the pout right off her lips.

Isabella did all she could to draw his attention back to her. Unstopping a crystal bottle inlaid with diamonds, she dabbed some of its perfume onto her fingertip and applied it first to her throat, and then to her cleavage. Her act worked to draw Robin's eyes back to her.

"Perfume as well, Isabella?" he asked accusingly.

"Only the finest. Do you like it? I sent all the way to Venice for it."

"I've been to Venice," Robin said with a smirk. "I thought I smelled the stink of its canals in here."

Enraged, Isabella flew at him, claws extended. Robin caught her around the wrist just before her nails could scratch out his eyes.

"Don't you touch him!" Marian cried. Without warning, Marian doubled up her fist and threw her strong right hook, knocking Isabella unconscious to the ground.

"Nice work, Marian," Robin grinned, impressed.

"Yes, well, she had it coming, I think," Marian replied, rubbing her sore knuckles.

Robin pressed them to his lips, and grinned at his wife. "All better?"

"I'll live. Come on, Robin, let's get out of here before she wakes up and calls the nuns on us. I once spent three months in a convent school as a girl, while you were off training to be a knight, and I can still feel the sting of their wooden paddles rapping my knuckles."

"Your knuckles have taken enough beating for one day. But let's not go till we've grabbed all we can carry."

Marian watched in surprise as Robin gathered up Isabella's belongings and tossed them onto her bed. "Come on, get moving!" he said, a lilt in his voice, as if issuing an invitation to a party.

"Robin, what are you doing?"

"Put everything on the bed," he ordered. "That way, we can carry it all in one load, when we tie up the bedcover and heave it onto Apollo's back."

"We're robbing her?" Marian asked, a glimmer of excitement springing to her eyes. "Robin! We haven't robbed anyone since..."

"Since Richard returned, I know. We didn't have any need. But this!" He was seizing Isabella's rich belongings by the armload. "This is an opportunity too good to waste! People make sacrifices to give to the abbey, trusting their money will go to help the poor. You and I, my love, will see that it does!"

They worked together quickly, happily, while Isabella lay silent on the floor. The first thing Marian took were the ruby earrings, tugging them right off Isabella's ears, not wasting any effort trying to be gentle.

When Isabella showed the first signs of reviving, Robin whispered, "That's all for now. Come on! Time to disappear."

Marian helped him hoist the bundle over his shoulder.

"How will we explain that bundle, if the nuns stop us?" Marian asked.

"We'll just tell them their abbess is sending a few things out to be laundered."

"They have their own laundry, Robin."

"True. But who said we're leaving by way of the door? I know another way out, and I doubt we'll meet any nuns scaling down the convent walls by a rope."

"Just a little trick you learned on that pleasure jaunt you took with Allan to Ripley Convent?"

"I never set foot in that convent, Marian, except to pray for my grandmother's soul, I swear."

She knew he was speaking the truth, but they both enjoyed teasing one another.

"Oh, Marian," Robin remembered, after dropping the bundle out Isabella's window, "grab one more thing, will you?"

"What?"

"Take her perfume, for yourself."

Marian grinned at him in surprise. "Robin! I thought you claimed it smelled like the Venetian canals!"

"On her, yes. On your sweet flesh, it'll smell like Eden."

He disappeared out the window, to hoist himself down by a rope.

Marian hesitated only a moment. "Eden," she repeated thoughtfully. "I suppose a change from rose petals couldn't hurt, on occasion."

With a spring in her step, she grabbed the bottle of perfume, and shimmied down the rope to join her husband.

"We are Robin Hood!" she told him, grinning, once her feet touched solid ground. "Robin, you're grand!"

He kissed her joyfully, and together, they ran through the rain to the stables, to find their horses and head for home.


	42. Chapter 42

Isabella emerged from her stupor with an aching head, and a nearly empty apartment.

She sat up, looked all about her chambers, then screamed, piling oath upon oath on Robin's head.

Several nuns heard her shrieks, but only the bravest found the courage to burst through her door to see what had befallen their abbess. The sight of Mother Bella in her semi sheer scarlet nightdress made the holy sister cross her chest three times and whisper prayers of absolution.

"Don't just stand there gaping, you dim witted virgin! Bring me something to cover myself! I need to get after them!"

"If you please, Your Grace, your robes have disppeared."

"What? All of them?"

"It appears so, Your Grace. There is, however, the cloak left by Lady Locksley. We were drying it for Her Ladyship by the fire, but she seems to have departed without it. We are already offering prayers for Her Ladyship, against pestilence. It wouldn't do for such a kind hearted lady to come down ill, for leaving her cloak behind and riding in the rain."

Now it was Isabella who stood silently gaping.

"Her cloak," she said at last. "Her cloak! Yes...that should do nicely!"

With a sly expression lighting up her eyes, Isabella ordered the nun to fetch her a habit from the abbey's storerooms.

"I have a few errands to run," she told the sister. "Bring me a habit, and Her Ladyship's cloak. I'll return it to her myself."

"Yes, Your Grace."

While the nun scuttled away to bring the required items of dress, Isabella plotted her scheme. "Off to the forest I go again," she planned. "I only hope the witch can prove more useful this time!"

...

Robin surveyed the company gathered in his home with satisfaction. Marian, in dry clothes, sat on a bench, holding Edward on her lap. The kitten Moonlight slept in a furry ball at her feet. Little John sat beside her, leaning on his staff. Much was sitting at the dining table, partaking in blackberry jam tarts. Will leaned against the railing of the staircase, while Djaq sat on one of the lower steps. Cheery conversation darted back and forth while they waited for Allan.

Robin knew Allan would come, full of excuses for the lie, or more accurately, half truth, he had told Robin about Marian's wedding to Gisbourne. But Allan needn't worry. Robin wasn't angry about that any more. He recognized his own part in the argument, by physically attacking the man for making a joke.

Allan arrived at last, bringing his son along to serve as a shield against Robin's temper. He was relieved when Robin greeted him warmly, and he viewed the presence of all of his dearest friends jauntily.

"What's this?" he asked. "The old gang back together again?"

"No one saw fit to invite Kate," Will jested quietly, causing Little John to bellow out a warning.

"Her, we do not like!"

"No worries, John," Robin assured him. "Kate won't be joining us."

"Why'd you call us here, Robin?" Allan asked. He cuffed his son lightly on the head. "Oi, don't put your grimey paws on the candlesticks!"

Thornton offered wine or ale to the adults, and milk to the child, who would have preferred ale. After a bit more friendly conversation, Robin told the gang the reason for their meeting.

"Lads, I need your help."

"Anything, Robin!" Much eagerly volunteered.

"It's a simple mission. Marian and I robbed the Abbey of Kirklees today, and I need you lot to-"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Allan stopped him. "You did what?"

"We robbed the abbey," Marian repeated proudly. "Or more specifically, we robbed the abbess."

"Have you gone mad?" John rumbled.

"Just wait," Robin said smugly. "You don't know the facts."

"The new Abbess of Kirklees," Marian explained, "is our old friend, Isabella of Gisbourne."

"You're joking!" Allan laughed.

"We do not joke," Robin assured them, grinning.

"So that's why she only appears in public wearing a veil hiding her face," Djaq commented.

"Isabella? The Abbess? Unbelieveable! She is revolting!"

The boy Allan, joining Much eating the jam tarts, spoke up. "What are you gonna do? Bloody hell! Are you gonna kick her arse outta the abbey, Robin?"

"Watch your tongue," Allan warned his son. "It's 'Lord Robin' to you!"

"Now lads," Robin continued, ignoring the father/son exchange. "Marian and I made off with a good stash of her worldly possessions. But, we need your help selling the goods and getting the money into the hands of the poor. We've already divided it into equal amounts. Be careful whom you sell it to. No 'Lucky George's' who can't be trusted."

Every member of the gang appeared excited by the unusual turn of events. "This is great, Robin!" Much cried, picking up his bundle to sell. "Just like old times!"

"We are Robin Hood!" Little John shouted, raising his tankard, and splashing its contents onto his arm.

"Daddy," Ellen's small voice piped, from the top of the stairs.

Robin looked up, smiling. "Yes, Boo?"

"Gracie and me wanna be Robin Hood, too."

Robin took the stairs two at a time, scooped his daughters up in his arms, and carried them proudly down the steps to join the company. Ellen carried her child's bow, and had strapped her quiver onto her back. Gracie was waving her garden spade around like a sword. Her kitten opened its eyes and dashed madly away at her approach.

"Of course!" their proud father told them. "You two will help us turn this stash into cash tomorrow morning, and then, you'll see how it feels to make things right."

"Edderd, too," Grace insisted, wiggling down from her father's arms to kiss her baby brother on top of his head.

"Edward, too," Marian smiled, stroking the soft peach fuzz that was slowly turning into Grace's hair.


	43. Chapter 43

Fortified on sacramental wine, Isabella of Gisbourne mounted a horse and left Kirklees Abbey to seek out the witch Gwyan in her filthy cave, in the woods bordering Sherwood and Barnsdale Forests.

Approaching the dwelling, she sneered in disgust. Already, rancid odors offended her nostrils, but she pressed on, believing she had come up with a delightful plan to make Robin suffer.

"Let me in," she demanded, pounding her fist on the heavy timber door over the cave's mouth. "It's Mother Bella. I've brought you a gift."

The door creaked open a few inches, causing Isabella to cover her nose and mouth from the stench within.

"Enter," the witch croaked, opening the door just widely enough to allow Isabella to squeeze through.

Gnarled hands with bent, bony fingers and long, filthy nails clawed at Isabella. "What have you brought me?" the witch asked greedily.

Isabella shook her off, and held out Marian's cloak, neatly folded. "I have a job for you. Do not fail me."

Eagerly, the witch seized the cloak. She fingered it curiously, scratching its fine fabric with her nails and gripping its folds in her fists, while her eyes rolled ecstatically in her head.

"Whose cloak is this?" she asked.

Isabella sneered again. "I thought you could divine the future. Someone with your unusual talents ought to be able to guess the owner of a cloak, surely."

The witch let out a high pitched scream, sending flocks of ravens outside her cave flying away through the trees.

"Whose cloak?" she repeated, threateningly.

Isabella stifled a yawn. The witch with her theatrics did not frighten her. "It belongs to Lady Marian of Locksley, the Countess of Huntington."

"I shall use her cloak to cast a spell over her," Gwyan intoned.

"Yes," Isabella sneered sarcastically. "May her hair turn grey and her teeth fall out. Cast your most vile curse upon her head. But that is not the reason I brought you her cloak."

"She shall be hideously murdered by her enemy," the witch pronounced with a cackle.

"Indirectly, perhaps," Isabella said aloud, while thinking that her plan would surely bring about Marian's violent end. "But stop your incantations and listen to me! Here is what you must do."

"I'm listening."

"First, you must bathe your hair in the juice of walnuts, to stain it a dark color. Next, I want you to appear by moonlight on the edge of the forest, performing whatever deeds witches do, covered in this cloak. Do not let your face be seen. Here, let me chop your hair shorter. Lady Locksley's hair falls near her elbows, not all the way down her back."

While Isabella hacked away at the witch's hair with her dagger, Gwyan asked, "I am to feign to be the Lady Marian?"

"Yes. But only from a distance. You must make people believe she is a practicing witch. So, do whatever it is you do, but make certain your identity is not discovered. And tell no one of our plan."

"What will you give me if I succeed?"

"What do you want?"

Gwyan glided to her table and bent her face to her huge, ugly toad. She spoke words to it in a language Isabella could not understand, and seemed to listen for its silent answers. Standing upright again, she turned her vacant eyes to Isabella and answered, "If I succeed, you must give me a vile of your blood."

Isabella grimaced, but agreed. "Very well. Do not fail me, I tell you."

"All who see me will believe the Lady Marian has become the Devil's bride."

"Excellent. Begin immediately. Color your hair, and then disguise yourself in her cloak. Now I must return to the abbey. Do not forget, tell no one."

"I am well practiced in the art of deception, being a bride of the Father of All Lies."

"Just do as I say. Goodbye."

Isabella left the cave, glad to distance herself from the witch.

"If she succeeds," she thought, "what a magnificent fire there will be in Nottingham!" Smiling with satisfaction, Isabella mounted her horse to return to Kirklees.


	44. Chapter 44

The rain had brought a wave of chill and dampness to the air, and Robin placed a log on the fire burning in his bedchamber to make it last much of the night, before climbing into bed with Marian.

Neither were sleepy, being on a high from having robbed Isabella, and full of plans to convert her goods into money to distribute to the poor come morning. And so, they sat up in their bed, with Robin's arm around Marian and her head on his shoulder, watching the flames and talking.

Robin gently kissed the top of Marian's head as she asked him, "Robin, you didn't really like that nightdress Isabella wore, did you?"

"Nightdress?" he teased. "I hardly noticed."

"You saw it. Your eyes grew as large as Much's."

He chuckled. "It was fashioned for effect," he grinned.

"But did you like it?"

"Marian!"

"What?"

"If I answer 'yes,' you'll be angry at me for liking it. And if I answer, 'no,' you'll be angry because I lied. I can't win."

"So you did like it!"

"Marian, stop, please. I'll buy you one just like it, alright?"

She pulled away, to stare at him indignantly.

"Robin of Locksley, you had better do no such thing! You want me to look like her?"

"No! I won't buy you one."

She folded her arms across her chest and fumed. His tone grew fond and coaxing. "I love how you dress, Marian. I love this sweet, simple, white gown you're wearing. You couldn't be any lovelier than you already are."

His words and manner convinced her, and she nestled happily against his shoulder again.

"It wouldn't be practical," she persisted. "Can you picture me in something like that, getting up in the night when one of the children cries or is sick?"

Robin let himself picture her "in something like that," and added, "Besides, I'd just rip it off you, anyway."

They both snickered at that, and she lifted her face to be kissed.

"Sorry," she told him, and he winked forgiveness.

Robin's hand began to slide idly up and down Marian's arm in a loving caress, and Marian sensed he was growing amorous. Her head was bursting with questions about the witch, and she wanted answers before she grew foggy minded from love.

"Robin," she began, pulling away and looking him in the eye, "you were going to speak to Friar Tuck today about the witch, but you didn't."

"That was before it hit me who the Abbess was."

"But what were you going to tell him? What are you planning to do about her?"

He sighed. "It's difficult, Marian. If she were a man, 'twould be simple."

"If you turn her in to the sheriff, he'll burn her."

"You want her spared? She's vile, Marian."

"Do you remember hearing about what happened in Lincoln when we were children? About the witch burnings there?"

He remembered only too well. "One witch was burned, and the people liked the drama so well, a rash of accusations and burnings defiled the city."

"I don't want that to happen here," she told him.

"She can't stay where she is, Marian. She's a threat to everyone in our village." He didn't want to voice his concern about her having taken Grace's Lucy, and how he worried for his child's safety.

"Turn her in as a thief instead," Marian suggested. "She's stolen livestock. Hanging is bad enough, but less painful, they say, than burning."

"Wilfred will burn her. She makes no secret of being a witch."

They each stared silently into the fire for a time, anxious about the dilemna. At last, Robin spoke.

"I promised Tuck I'd give him a week to try and convert her. I won't go back on my word. But he can't deal with her alone. She overpowered me, with her potions. I'd hate to think how easily she can overpower Tuck."

"She might not want to hold him captive. She might just shoo him away. He doesn't have your same...qualities."

Robin was tired of discussing the witch, having other things on his mind. "Let's talk about this later."

"But what about-"

"Later."

He began kissing her softly, kisses Marian was powerless to resist, not that she wanted to.

Just as Marian happily gave herself up to his kisses, Robin's conscience smote him for ignoring her need to talk, and he pulled away. "I'm sorry, my love. You were saying?"

"Later," she insisted, pulling him to her.


	45. Chapter 45

The sun shone brightly the following morning, promising a beautiful spring day ahead. Everything smelled fresh, and the world seemed brand new, as Marian and her small daughters gathered blossoms from their garden to fill jugs within their home, and bring their garden indoors. Edward lay cooing on a thick blanket on the grass, his toes in his mouth, and Moonlight pranced, weaving in and out between Marian's footsteps, for the grey kitten dearly loved Locksley's mistress, and rarely let her out of his sight.

Robin was away in Nottingham, selling Isabella's stolen treasures to an honest merchant. Marian trusted he would get a good price and be home in time for dinner. She looked forward to distributing money to the poor of Nettlestone village, after Grace and Edward's afternoon naps. The entire family planned to journey together to Nettlestone, as Ellen had requested, to distribute the money among the poor.

None of them had any idea of the cold reception they would receive in Nettlestone, nor that its people gossiped that Lady Locksley practiced witchcraft, believing some had seen her slaughter a calf as a sacrifice to Satan, and throw off her cloak to dance naked in the moonlight last night, near their village.

Had Marian known, she would never have been so frivalous as to ask Bette to sew a new nightdress for her, made from a deep forest green sheer silk, so dark it was almost black.

...

Before long, Robin boisterously returned with money for the poor. The family enjoyed a dinner filled with joy and laughter, followed by lessons for Elllen and a nap for the two younger children. Approximately two hours later, the entire family rode on horseback to Nettlestone, to "spread a bit of happiness."

It was odd to witness the suspicious glares that met them when they dismounted from their horses and made their way on foot to the heart of the village.

"Owen, Kate, George," Robin greeted them warmly, "my family needs your help."

"You'll get no help from us," Kate the miller's wife snarled, backing away from Marian as if the noblewoman carried the plague.

"You misunderstand me!" Robin said, smiling gently. "We come asking you to tell us who is most needy in your village."

"We have money to distribute among the poor," Marian continued, "and you know better than we do who needs it most."

"We'll take _his_ money," Owen said, indicating Robin while avoiding Marian's eyes, "but we'll not be taking any of hers."

Robin and Marian exchanged quizzical looks, and Robin hastened to assure Owen, "None of it belongs to either one of us. It belongs to the poor, given to Kirklees Abbey by God fearing Christians, doing their duty to help their fellow man."

"Or woman," Marian added.

"Take it, please, Owen," Robin pleaded, pressing a heavy purse into the miller's calloused hands. "I'm trusting you to distribute it wisely, and fairly. Don't let me down."

Owen stared at the purse, then at Robin. His eyes were fearful, their expression wretched.

"What's wrong, Owen?" Robin asked, with passionate concern. "What has happened?"

"Get out of our village!" Owen's wife Kate shouted. "Go! Go now, and never set your cloven hoofs here again!"

Marian saw how very upset her sensitive daughter Ellen was becoming from Nettlestone's unusual scorn and rejection. "Let's go, Robin," she said, tugging on his elbow. "We can sort this out later, when the children aren't here."

Her husband nooded, stunned into disbelief at the behavior of the village.

He lifted Ellen onto Apollo's back, to ride pillion behind him, then swung himself onto his saddle, with the baby Edward strapped to his body. Grace rode on her mother's horse, sitting in front. The family was unusually quiet all the way home.

...

Much joined them for supper, excited and full of happy stories of his success passing out money to the village of Clun. Nearly everyone in Clun needed money, and Much explained how he had been hugged, and blessed, and cried over, and stuffed with bread and eggs, from the grateful villagers.

"I dare say you met with the same success in Nettlestone," Much guessed, his mouth full of pork.

"Hardly," Robin told him. "Something was very wrong today in Nettlestone village."

"Oh, well." Much brushed it off. "Those people have never been trustworthy. Think back to all the times we've helped them, Robin, and think too of the many times they've proved traitorous. I don't know why we continue helping them at all."

"Because, Much," Robin explained, "they need our help."

"Yes. Well. I suppose you'd help the Devil himself, if he was hungry. Is there any more ale? Locksley has the best ale in all the shire, I think you'll find."

...

Much stayed for hours at Locksley, talking with Robin and partaking in ale, so that he found himself too unsteady to ride home to Bonchurch. Marian saw that a room was prepared for him to spend the night, and word was sent to Eve so she wouldn't worry.

Getting ready for bed, Marian stared at her reflection in the looking glass, wondering if she had made an extravagent mistake having Bette make her such an alluring nightdress. She had to admit, she looked stunningly beautiful in it, and it made her feel beautiful just wearing it. In fact, it felt wonderful to look so attractive, especially after two back-to-back pregnancies. Her figure had only recently returned to normal, and her body felt her own again, which was nice, even if she had also appreciated it being used to house and support her babies. Even so, she questioned herself for having such a nightdress fashioned for her.

"What will Robin think?" she wondered, hoping he would like it. She had been thinking of him when she had commissioned Bette to make the gown, after all.

"Goodnight, Much," Marian heard Robin's voice in the passageway bidding their friend goodnight. "If you need anything, we're right on the other side of the wall."

"Yes. Well. Let's hope you're quieter than the last time I tried sleeping under your roof."

"Much!" Robin objected. "We were quiet."

"Please!" Much burped ale. "I could hear your bed creaking all the way on the other side of the wall."

"I got that fixed," Robin explained sheepishly. "Goodnight, my friend."

"Goodnight, Robin."

Marian heard Much's door close, and she held her breath nervously as her husband pushed open the door to their room.


	46. Chapter 46

Robin strode into his bedchamber and stopped dead in his tracks, rendered speechless by the lovely vision of his wife clothed in her new nightdress of deep forest green. He didn't speak. He didn't move. Marian's nervousness increased.

Unable to stand his silence any longer, Marian gulped. In a small voice, she asked him, "Well, do you like it?"

Robin snapped back to life in an instant. "Do I like it?" he exclaimed, a tremendous grin lighting up his features. He approached her with a purpose behind his steps.

Marian returned his grin, but backed away. "Robin, you're not going to rip this off me. I like it too well. I want to wear it awhile longer. It's pretty."

"It's very pretty," he agreed, still advancing. "Which is why it's coming off."

"No!"

They were laughing as he chased her all around their room, vaulting tables and dashing up and over and across the bed. Robin lunged for Marian, but she dodged him expertly, knowing all his tricks from years of having been chased.

This was the perfect tonic to cure his disappointment for the cold reception they had received in Nettlestone today.

At last, he backed her into a corner, and seized her around her waist. She wiggled and squirmed as he buried his face on her neck and nibbled at her flesh.

"I thought you said green doesn't suit you," he teased her, between nips. "I beg to differ."

"Robin, stop it!" she giggled. With all her strength, she spun her body out of his grasp and darted away.

"But I was just getting started," he complained, grinning as he took up the chase again.

There was a loud crash as he knocked over a table, and they both stopped for a brief moment to stare at it. Instantaneously, they decided it could wait until later.

"If I was armed," Marian told him, laughing as she pushed him aside again, "you wouldn't be so bold."

"But you're not, are you?" Robin countered. "I see absolutely no place for you to conceal a weapon under that gown."

"It doesn't conceal much of anything, does it?" she giggled.

She had let her guard down with that statement. Standing just a few feet from the bed, Robin saw his chance. With a diving leap, he hurled himself at her, grabbed her around her middle, and threw the two of them onto the bed.

Marian gave a small squeal of delight, but bit her tongue when the bedframe split apart and the bed came crashing to the floor.

For a moment, they lay silent, eyes wide open with surprise.

And then, he began to laugh, softly at first, but increasing in volume, and so infectious, she couldn't help joining in.

"Robin," she said, between giggles, "I thought you had the bedframe fixed!"

"I did! You haven't heard it creaking anymore."

"You should have asked Will to do it! What's Much going to think of us?"

"What's everybody going to think of us?"

It seemed the entire household staff, led by Much, were outside their door in the hallway, frantically demanding to know if they were alright.

"Go to the door and tell them," Marian nudged her husband, as he lay on his back on the fallen mattress, laughing so hard tears were in his eyes.

"No need to worry," Marian called, lifting her voice because Robin was snickering so hard he couldn't get the words out. "We're fine. Just an old bedframe that needs repairing, again. Goodnight."

"Unbelieveable!" they heard Much proclaim through their door, and Marian buried her face on Robin's neck, mortified, yet laughing.

The next moment, laughter died from Robin's lips.

"Who's coming?" he asked, leaping up from the fallen bed and looking out the window.

"What is it?" Marian wanted to know.

"Sheriff's men," Robin told her, completely serious now. "Must be trouble somewhere in the shire. They're armed soldiers."

Immediately, he strapped on his sword and donned his quiver. With bow in hand, he pounded his fist on the wall adjoining Much's room.

"Much! Get ready! Sheriff's men need us!"

Marian wondered what trouble could bring so many soldiers to their door in the dead of night. Why hadn't the sheriff sent two men to fetch Robin, leaving the others to handle the problem, instead of sending an entire squadron to Locksley?

Bryan, the captain of the guards, dismounted and pounded his fist on their door.

"Open this door, in the name of the King!" he shouted.

Marian could tell that Robin was furious. She felt angry, too, at the way this trouble was being handled.

She listened after Robin had darted down the stairs and opened the main door to their home.

"What's this about, Bryan?" Robin asked. "What's so important you have to come out here, awaken my village, and frighten my servants?"

Marian knew Much stood by Robin's side. She cursed her gown when she heard her children crying, but found a robe and made herself decent before rushing to the nursery. She didn't hear Bryan's next words, over the cries of her little ones.

"By order of Sheriff Wilfred, right loyal subject of His Most Gracious Majesty, King John," the captain told Robin, "we come to arrest Marian of Locksley, on charges of witchcraft!"


	47. Chapter 47

"Search the house," Bryan, the captain of the guards ordered his men. "Find the witch and fetch her here."

In the blink of an eye, Robin nocked an arrow to his bow, and pointed it directly between Bryan's eyes. "Tell your men not to move a step in my house. If it's a witch you seek, I suggest they try the border between Sherwood and Barnsdale Forests. Or better yet, Kirklees Abbey."

Neither Bryan nor his men moved so much as a muscle. There was murder in Locksley's eyes.

Much stood staunchly beside his dearest friend in the world, hand on swordhilt, waiting for Robin's orders. After a few moments of the standoff, he found himself unable to endure the silence any longer.

"Why are you thugs here for Marian? She's not a witch!" Much blurted out.

Bryan, palms sweating, eyes fearfully transfixed on Locksley's arrow, found his voice and answered Lord Bonchurch. "She was seen outside Nettlestone village last night, sacrificing a calf and drinking its blood, then throwing off her cloak and dancing in the moonlight. Naked," he added, by way of explanation, "as witches are wont to do."

"Lady Locksley was here with me all night," Robin stormed. "Go back to Nottingham, and tell whoever made such false accusations he had better refrain from slandering my wife, or he'll have me to answer to."

"My Lord," Bryan persisted, "there was more than one witness saw her."

Robin's face flushed in anger.

"How many?" Much asked.

"There were at least twenty. All honest folk of Nettlestone village, My Lords."

"Nettlestone!" Much cried. "I knew it! That explains your cold reception there today, Robin!"

Robin's thoughts were swimming. Why would honest people accuse Marian of witchcraft? He needed to get to the bottom of this.

He suspected Isabella was somehow behind the accusations, but he couldn't believe even she would stoop so low as to slaughter a calf and drink its blood, nor dance naked in the moonlight. Besides, even in the dark, people would not mistake her body for Marian's. The two woman shared a resemblance in face and hair, but their bodies were fashioned along completely different lines. No man would mistake Isabella's small breasts and slender hips for Marian's luscious womanly curves.

At that moment, Marian herself appeared at the top of the stairs. She had managed to calm the children, and had tucked each of them back snugly into their cozy beds, and was now free to learn what was the cause for the ruckus taking place in her home. Her eyes blinked in suprise at the sight of the squadron of armed soldiers, but especially at Robin, arrow pointed at their captain.

"What is happening?" she demanded to know, trotting down the steps to stand by her husband's side.

The kitten Moonlight scampered at her heels, and Robin nearly kicked him without meaning to, so great was his need to position Marian behind him and protect her.

"Milady," Bryan announced, "you have been accused of witchcraft. I have been sworn to bring you to Nottingham, to be held in a cell until your trial."

"Witchcraft?" Marian scoffed, not fully comprehending. "Don't be ridiculous."

One brave and foolish soldier took a step toward Marian, but reeled back in agony when Robin's arrow slammed into his shoulder. Before anyone could take another step, Robin was ready with a second arrow on his bow, poised to strike.

In the confusion, no one except Bryan had seen another soldier grab Moonlight by the scruff of his neck. Bryan issued a silent order by a nod of his head, and the soldier left the house with the kitten, to head to Locksley Pond.

"Robin, stop!" Marian pleaded. "This is clearly a misunderstanding." Unhappily, she turned and faced Bryan, head held high. "Captain, am I to face Sheriff Wilfred tonight?"

"No, milady," he answered curtly. "The sheriff will address you come morning, but promises you a speedy trial."

"Not by dunking, I trust," Marian said bravely.

"No, milady. A proper trial, with witnesses on both sides."

Marian, a restraining hand on Robin's arm, replied. "Very well, then. I will willingly go to Nottingham on my own come morning. You have my word. You and your soldiers may return to your posts, or to your beds. There is no need to take me by force tonight."

"I am sorry, milady," Bryan told her. "My orders were to bring you now."

Robin make as if to fire, and Bryan gasped and covered his head.

"Bryan," the archer sneered, "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

"And you'd be coming with your witch wife, to await hanging."

Before Marian or Much could stop him, Robin threw down his bow and advanced on the soldier, fists raised.

"Robin, no!" Much cried, but the furious husband had already thrown a punch. Bryan, a strong burly soldier, answered it with a blow of his own, and the two men almost knocked each other senseless, until they were pulled apart.

"Robin, stop!" Marian ordered. "It seems I have little choice." Turning to Bryan, she stated, "I'll come with you tonight, if you'll allow me to change my clothing first."

"Marian," Robin cried from the ground, where he was being held down by three men, "you can't go with them!"

She dropped to her knees beside the man she loved. "It will be alright, my darling. Wilfred is no Vaisey. He is fair minded. And I am no witch. All will be made right, and my name will be cleared. Fear not, my love." She longed to kiss his lips, but hesitated with the soldiers looking on. But her husband had no such qualms. He leaned his face into hers, and kissed her longingly.

Rising to her feet, she faced Bryan. "Allow me a brief moment to look in on my children, and to change my clothing."

The hard hearted soldier took a moment to decide, then nodded his head in assent, but sent two soldiers to accompany her up the stairs.

Robin squirmed violently, trying to free himself. "Damn you, Bryan, you bastard," he shouted. "I will shoot the eyes out of any man who watches her undress."

"Robin, steady!" Much tried his best to calm his friend.

In almost no time at all, Marian, with her escort, returned from changing her clothing. "I am ready," she told the captain.

"I'm coming with you!" Robin cried, and Bryan felt forced to agree, knowing no force on Heaven or Earth could stop Locksley.

Much came, too, and the three walked while horsemen surrounded them in a circle. The circle effectively hid the sight of one of the soldiers, dropping Moonlight into Locksley Pond, in a sack filled with heavy stones.

"Go back to Hell where you came from, you witch's 'familiar,' " the soldier cried, then crossed his chest and caught up with his squadron, to head to Nottingham.


	48. Chapter 48

Robin appeared weary and haggard the following morning.

Earlier, Much had needed to hold him back when guards had hauled Marian away to a dungeon cell. Robin had then demanded to see the sheriff, and had talked his way to getting his wife lodged in a comfortable bedchamber in the castle instead. She was removed from the dungeons to a heavily guarded, windowless chamber, so Robin had no way to break in and be with her. Instead, he had stationed himself outside her door, guarding her guards, lest one or two should decide to take their pleasure off her during the night.

Woe to any of them who dared to even hint at such an undertaking. None dared, with Locksley pacing among them with a caged beast. Even stripped of his weapons, he was a dangerous force, not to be reckoned with.

And now, with the city bells tolling Prime, Marian was brought before the sheriff to stand trial for witchcraft. Robin marveled at how fresh and young and lovely she appeared, when he himself felt as if he had aged ten years overnight.

Sheriff Wilfred peered down from his seat on a raised dais to view Lady Marian, hating himself for what he was about to do. He knew too well his days as Sheriff were numbered, threatened by King John's displeasure. "Too soft, Wilfred," the King constantly jeered at him. "If you cannot make the hard decisions and bring miscreants to justice, our Royal Person will find someone else who can!" But why did it have to be Lady Locksley, so generous and kind to all, to serve as the sacrificial lamb and save his position? And yet, what better sacrifice than a lovely young mother, to prove to the King he was capable of overseeing the shire with an iron fist?

A standardbearer pounded his staff of office onto the floor three times to quiet the crowd, announcing, "In the name of God and His Most Gracious Majesty, King John, let the trial begin!"

Witnesses were called forward, and Robin, with Much at his side, listened in disbelief as various people from Nettlestone claimed they had seen the Countess of Huntington slaughter a calf, rip out its heart with her bare hands, and drink its blood, then throw off her cloak to dance naked in the moonlight.

Another witness complained that Her Ladyship used to wear a cross around her neck, but was never seen wearing one of late. Several came forward to mention that Lady Locksley had recently adopted a cat, a favorite of witches to serve as a "familiar," when it was well known that, though an animal lover, Her Ladyship had never been partial to cats in the past.

All of these witnesses had been paid well by the Abbess of Kirklees, simply to come forward and make these claims.

Once the poor folk of Nettlestone had completed their testimony, one of the sheriff's guards who had watched Marian change from her nightdress into the gown she wore now, stepped forward.

"She's a witch, my lord," he proclaimed.

"What evidence supports your accusation?" Sheriff Wilfred asked, unhappily.

"She's marked."

"Marked? Explain yourself."

The guard looked leeringly at the accused beautiful woman standing bravely before him.

"I guarded her as she undressed, and put on that gown she's wearing now. She's got two big brown marks on her belly, from where the Devil bit into her, marking her for his own."

Robin leaped to his feet and shouted, "I'll cut out your lying tongue as well as put out your eyes, Reynolds!"

"Order! Order!" Sheriff Wilfred called out, and Robin was only silent because Marian's eyes implored him to be still. Much pulled him back into his seat, and tried to soothe him with assurances that Marian would go free.

"I believe this court has listened to enough testimony. It is time to hear from the accused. Lady Marian of Locksley, Countess of Huntington, how do you plead to the charges brought against you?"

"Not guilty, my lord."

"Can you answer these charges?"

"I can, my lord."

"Then do so, but know that if you lie in this court, you lie before Almighty God."

"I wish to address the charges made by Reynolds first," Marian announnced, in a calm, proud voice. "It is true that I am scarred in two places on my abdomen, but these marks can be explained. Years ago, I was stabbed, on two separate occasions, by Sir Guy of Gisbourne."

The very name sent chills throughout the room.

"Stabbed by Gisbourne?" the sheriff echoed. "And yet, you lived?"

"I was believed dead both times, but fought my way back to life." Marian bit her tongue, almost giving credit to Djaq for saving her, before realizing she'd put her friend in danger for naming her.

"That proves she's a witch! Come back from the dead, twice! Traded her soul to Lucifer, for more chances at life! Burn her!" a man from Nettlestone bellowed.

Marian turned and addressed the man by name. "Ralph," she said kindly, "did I not, just last month, bring soup to your goodwife when she was ill, and sit with her throughout the night, to give you rest?"

Ralph looked shamed, but Isabella's silver lined his pockets, and won over his conscience. "You did, My Lady, and the Devil spared you from Lizzie's infection, though all else who come near her, caught what she'd had."

Marian ignored the man's ridiculous accusations. Continuing her defense, she said, "As for having stopped wearing a crucifix around my neck, please understand I found it impractical, caring for my infant son who is very curious and continually tried to pull at it. The kitten was a present for my daughter, given to her by her father when she was sick. The outrageous charges against me, supposedly witnessed by so many of the good people of Nettlestone village, can only be explained away by me swearing I was home in bed with my husband the night they claimed to see me. If they seek a witch, there is one who dwells in a cave in the forest, who recently killed one of my lord husband's horses. Perhaps it was she the people saw performing her vile deeds."

" 'Tweren't!" Ralph of Nettlestone cried out. Pointing at Marian, he shouted, " 'Twas her!"

"Order!" Sheriff Wilfred demanded. When the room grew silent, the sheriff cleared his throat and offered his judgment.

"So hearing the testimony against the accused, I, Wilfred, Sheriff of Nottingham, do declare that the Countess of Huntington be further put to trial by undergoing the Ordeal of Water, as decreed by our late sovereign lord, King Henry II. The accused shall be bound, hand and foot by ropes, and thrown into Locksley Pond, where she will either sink to the bottom and drown, proving her innocence, or float to the top, and live, proving she is a witch, whereupon she will be taken to the marketplace in Nottingham, and burnt at the stake."

Robin leapt to his feet. "This isn't a trial!" he shouted. "This is a farce! Damn you, Wilfred!"

"Silence, Locksley! Do not interfere with the justice of this court!"

"There is no justice in this court, only ignorance and superstition, presided over by a cowering bastard I thought was a better man!"

"Take the accused to Locksley Pond, and let God judge whether she be a witch," Wilfred ordered Bryan, who led his men toward Marian.

In a flash, Robin burst into action. With the strength of ten men, he knocked aside every man close to him, fighting his way toward his wife. Much joined him, fighting off any who edged toward Robin. As for Marian, she leaped into the air and flipped over several times, sending her skirts swirling around her, kicking as she turned somersaults through the air. The sheriff had never witnessed anything like this before, and only a handful of guards remembered seeing the Nightwatchman and Robin Hood fight with such abandon. The spectators and guards in the courtroom were taken by surprise, and Robin and Marian were able to meet at the doorway. Robin grabbed his wife around her waist and fairly flew out of the chamber, pulling her to safety.

All through the castle they darted and dashed, followed by a stream of guards.

They didn't slacken their pace until they were safely out of reach, past the city walls.

"Where to?" Marian breathlessly asked her husband, as he pulled her up behind him onto the back of a stolen stallion.

"Home first, to gather the children."

"And then?"

"On to our other home, Marian. Sherwood."


	49. Chapter 49

Robin led his family deep into the heart of Sherwood, to an abandoned cottage he remembered from his time living in the forest as an outlaw. He thought the secluded cottage would be ideal, situated near a rushing stream, complete with small waterfall, as well as being near an abundance of game. He thanked God it was spring, so his family would have the warm summer months to live comfortably while he sorted out their problem and cleared Marian's name.

They couldn't live in his former outlaw camp. Guy of Gisbourne had discovered it and had briefly installed himself there as a dark "Nightwatchman," before destroying it in his hatred for Robin and Marian. No, this unknown cottage would have to do for now.

Robin pushed open its door, noting he'd need to fix its hinges. Then, in a rush of relief at Marian's safety, he unstrapped Edward and handed him off to Ellen, before scooping Marian up in his arms and carrying her over the threshold. His action was met by squeals of delight from his daughters, who begged he carry them through the doorway as well.

Entering, their senses were overpowered by the musty smell of mice.

"It's a mighty good thing we brought Moonlight with us," Marian commented, from Robin's arms.

The kitten was a fighter, like its master and mistress, and had scratched and clawed its way out of the sack it had been thrown into to drown, and had returned to Locksley Manor, wet and shivering. No one knew what had befallen it, but Bridget Thornton had wrapped it in a towel and given it warm milk, and before long, it had returned to being its own frisky self again. Marian had insisted they bring it along, and Robin had agreed, unwilling to deny his wife anything.

Reluctantly, Robin set Marian on her feet, then carried all three of their children across the threshold in one swoop.

"Is this our new house?" Ellen asked, looking around the one room cottage with wide eyes.

"How do you like it, Boo?"

"Where do we sleep?"

Robin indicated some straw pallets in a corner, and Grace ran and threw herself on one.

The toddler jumped up immediately, scratching. "Bad bugs!" she scolded.

Marian rushed to Grace and brushed off the swarming insects. "Mites and fleas," she said, disgusted.

Scooting Grace aside, she pulled and dragged the straw pallets out the door and left them several feet from the cottage.

"Any ideas, Sweetheart?" she asked her husband.

"Right," Robin answered. "Work to do."

Marian had brought along a basket from Locksley, large enough for Edward to sleep in. Robin placed the baby in it now.

"Since you ladies have so much practice, digging your garden, you get the glorious job of digging us a privy."

"Wonderful," Marian replied, smiling nonetheless. "And what will you do?"

"We men," Robin answered, lifting Edward by the basket handles, "will cut willow from the trees growing along the streambank. They make a fragrant bed, willow branches."

"They make a pokey bed," Marian responded. "Still, I'm so exhausted, I could sleep on a boulder and not complain tonight."

...

And so, with his Irish knife, Robin cut springy green branches from the willlows growing alongside the stream.

"How do you like this adventure?" he asked his son, who was sitting up in his basket, eyeing the water with interest. "I intend to make this the best summer of your life, thus far. Which isn't saying much, considering your age. Now, what are we going to do for diapers?"

Returning to the cottage, he was pleased to discover that Marian had already swept the dirt floor clean and vermin free. He piled the willow sprigs, one on top of another, to fashion beds for his family.

"That will have to do, till I think of something better," he told his son. "Any ideas?"

His "Little Bear" responded with an excited squeal, and Robin lifted him out of the basket to let him explore his new home.

"I think it's time I shot us something for supper," Robin commented to Edward. He was glad to have retrieved Marian's bow from Locksley, his own priceless Saracen one having been taken from him in the castle, along with his scimitar. "I'll get them back," he vowed silently.

For weapons, he'd also brought along his father's broad sword, and Marian had her sword and a dagger. They were short of arrows, but he only needed one to bring down dinner. If necessary, they could melt the coins he'd brought to make arrowheads.

Marian and the girls returned to the cottage, having completed their chore. Robin handed his wife the flints used to light a fire.

"Alright, ladies," he told his daughters, "your next duty is to gather wood for your mother, so she can build a fire to cook what I bring home. We need all sizes, as much as you can carry. If it slithers, don't pick it up."

Ellen giggled, while Grace jumped up and down on the willow sprigs.

"No bouncing on the bed, Gracie," Ellen told her.

...

After Robin left and Marian fetched in most of the firewood herself, it took her several tries to get a fire burning. She regreted lighting one in the cottage's firepit immediately.

With no chimney, the smoke was expected to escape through a hole in the roof. Even with several holes overhead, due to a thatch that desperately needed replacing, smoke billowed throughout the cottage, so thick that Marian had to pull her coughing children outside.

"Well," she said, "I guess we'll do all our cooking outdoors. Your father insists the food tastes better prepared that way, anyway."

Marian had held up well, trying to look at the "bright side" and remain cheerful, but now that Robin wasn't in sight, the loss of home hit her. She remained brave, however, thankful for her safety and her family surrounding her, and brushed aside her worries, for her children's sakes.

"What's Daddy catching?" Ellen asked.

"Probably rabbit," Marian guessed. "The five of us wouldn't eat enough off a stag to make it worthwhile to kill one of those beautiful, gentle creatures. The meat would mostly go rancid, which would be a terrible waste."

"Moonlight's caught his supper," Ellen commented, grimmacing at the sight of the kitten digging into a mouse.

"I wish we had a goat, for milk for you children," Marian mused. "Maybe we can keep one. Goats will eat anything."

Marian's nose told her that Edward needed changing. "Oh, dear," she said, then lifted her skirt and used her dagger to cut off her petticoats.

"Mama, what are you doing?" Ellen asked.

"Diapers!" Marian said proudly.

Looking up, she saw Robin returning, bearing a plump pheasant.

Marian was so happy to see his smiling, confident face, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

"We're going to be alright, won't we?" she asked, needing his assurance.

"We're going to better than alright," he told her happily. "Don't forget, Wren, I've done this before."

"We are Robin Hood!" Ellen cried.


	50. Chapter 50

Robin and his family awoke the following morning, refreshed from a deep night's sleep on their willow sprig "bed."

Last night, the family had retired early, being exhausted from the previous night when the children's sleep had been interrupted, Marian had slept very little, and Robin not at all. Marian had placed Edward in his basket, next to her, and the girls had slept between their parents, with Robin closest to the door for protection. Robin almost never snored when asleep, but last night, he'd been so tired, he reminded Marian of Little John. Nonetheless, his family slept through his snoring.

Marian teased him in the morning, after he heard Grace imitating him. "I did it on purpose, " he jested. "To scare the forest beasts from our door."

"Daddy, is there ghosts, and fairies in the woods?" Ellen wanted to know, looking worried.

"There are not, Boo. Those are only stories. But, they serve us well, keeping cowards at bay. Maybe we'll dress you and your sister up as wood sprites, and-"

"You'll do no such thing!" Marian grew short tempered, fretting over the lack of milk for her children, especially Edward.

Robin approached her with kind, caring eyes, trying to divine what was wrong. She struggled briefly when he took her in his arms, then relaxed and let him soothe her.

"It will be alright, Marian," he told her gently. "Ask the Lord for what you need, out loud so I can hear, too, and just watch how quickly we'll provide. He and I make a great team, you know."

"You're blasphemous," she scolded, smiling up at him.

"Remind me of my sins, next time I see Tuck. I think that's the reason he likes me. My confessions are so entertaining!"

Marian grinned, and Robin said, "That's better. Now, my love, what stole the smile off your lips this morning?"

"We need milk."

Robin looked at their three happy children.

"You're right. We do. Should I drag a cow all the way here, or ride on its back?"

Marian couldn't help but laugh. "You're a fool, Robin of Locksley. An adorable fool. But I'm serious."

"No more fretting. You'll have your milk before the day is over. Now, what else does milady crave?"

"Time alone in private with my lord would be lovely," she teased, her eyes sparkling like sapphires.

Robin's smile widened, and he kissed her happily. "I'll come up with plan for that, as well."

"Before the day is over?"

"Before the sun's halfway across the sky."

"No rush. We have a lot of work to finish first."

"Spoilsport." He winked and kissed her again.

...

Breakfast was leftover pheasant from last evening's meal. Just as Edward began to grow fussy, needing his morning milk, Robin sat up, alert.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, Marian," her husband said, a twinkle in his eye, "it would appear the good Lord answered your prayer, without my help."

Marian listened, then broke out in a smile. "Robin! I hear a goat!"

"Let's hope it's a girl," he joked.

With Edward in her arms, Marian ran to the doorway of their cottage. Robin followed, as did the two little girls.

Much was approaching, leading a female goat by a rope. Immediately behind him came Eve, Friar Tuck, Little John, Will and Djaq, Allan and Annie, followed by all the children. Everyone was laden with essentials, including three egg laying hens, an array of cooking utensils, blankets, and best of all to Marian, linens for diapers.

Robin was thrilled to see his friends, but moved by their loyalty as well.

"Well met, my friends," he said, welcoming them to his new home.

Eve went straight to Marian and poured milk from a covered jug for the children. Marian thanked her with tears in her eyes, and sighed with satisfaction as Edward greedily gulped down his share.

"I knew you'd be here!" Much announced. "I knew it!"

"Yeah," Allan joked. "He knew it _after _he took us fifteen other places first!"

"I found them," Much defended himself. "No thanks to you."

"Quit your squabbling, the pair of you!" Little John bellowed.

"Just like old times," Will murmured quietly to his wife.

The children darted about through the trees, playing happily, and Robin proudly showed off the cottage.

"I'll get to work, making you beds," Will volunteered, then took off into the forest to locate the wood he needed.

"Robin, what can we do?" Much asked eagerly.

"Let's get started mending the roof. The first sign of rain, and we'll be drenched."

His men got straight to work, while the women helped Marian organize the things they'd brought, to make the cottage a home.

Everything was scrubbed, but not swept, for repairing the roof brought a constant shower of dust and rushes upon their heads.

The men worked up a sweat, and made excellent progress.

From their position up high, Robin glanced down at their wives and said, "Just look at them, lads! Marian, Djaq, Annie, and Eve! I've been all over the world, and there's not another group of women who can touch their loveliness."

"Yeah. How we'd get so lucky?" Allan agreed. "Especially Much. I'd of thought he'd end up with someone as ugly as the goat, like Kate."

"Oh, very funny!"

...

Robin took a break from working midmorning, and disappeared into the forest with Marian's bow, only to return a brief time later, bearing a skinned and gutted deer.

"Venison?" Marian asked, surprised.

"There are a lot of mouths to feed here today," he answered, "including Much and Tuck. And, what we don't eat, my men can take back to Locksley, and give to our people. You'll do that for me, won't you, lads?"

"Of course, Robin!" Much cried.

"Tell them it comes from Robin Hood," he continued. "Tell them I haven't abandoned them."

Everyone knew that was the reason Robin and Marian would not leave the forest, to travel elsewhere. As Robin had said, he'd been all over the world, and had made friends wherever he'd travelled. There were numerous places he and his family could live, in elegance and comfort, but he wouldn't leave his people, not again.

Annie efficiently took over the cooking, while Much fussed from the roof that she wasn't doing it correctly. Allan told Much to "shut up" so many times, he began to say it before Much could even get out a word.

When the meal was ready, the men climbed down from the roof. Robin showed off by executing a backwards flip, landing perfectly balanced on both feet. Everyone washed their hands in a bucket of clear spring water, then bowed their heads while Tuck blessed the food.

It was wonderful to sit down together, outdoors in the forest, and feast on venison.

"Just like the old days!" Much chorused. "Except, of course, we can go home to our comfortable houses tonight. Oh! Sorry!" he apologized, when Djaq shook her head at him.

"That Sheriff Wilfred's as useless as balls on a priest," Allan commented, making Tuck blush crimson. Annie giggled at her husband's humor, but Marian gave Allan one of her "I can't believe you just said that" looks.

"What he did was unconscionable," Robin said angrily.

"What will you do, Robin?" Will asked, knowing his friend would not simply sit back in the forest and wait things out.

"I intend to prove my wife's innocence and clear her name."

"How?"

"I have a plan," Robin said, sly as a fox.


	51. Chapter 51

After everyone had returned to their homes, and the girls were asleep in the new bed Will Scarlet had constructed, Marian gently rocked Edward to sleep as well, then lay him in his basket.

Robin's eyes were shining at her with so much love, she felt herself growing self conscious.

"What?" she asked him.

"I was just thinking about that other promise I made you today. Do you remember it?"

She smiled. "I do."

"Well, then..."

He rose from his seat and took her in his arms, and began to kiss her in a slow, determined fashion that swept Marian completely off her feet.

"What if the children wake up?" she asked.

"They won't."

"They might."

"We won't be here."

"Where will we be?"

"Within earshot, in case they need us. How does a swim in the moonlight sound to you?"

"Mmm. Very romantic."

"There's only one rule."

"What is it?"

"You can't get your clothes wet."

She pulled away, her eyes shining back at him.

"I'll race you to the stream," she said.

...

Robin caught his breath at the sight of Marian, her pale skin glowing luminous in the moonlight, poised on the edge of the streambank, ready to dive into the water. He shed his clothes in record time, then tossed them with her clothing onto a boulder, and plunged into the stream with her.

He came up sputtering, while she emerged from under water, uttering a little shriek.

"It's freezing!" she cried.

"Don't get out, Marian," he begged, shoulders tense and teeth chattering. "It'll warm up."

"When? By Midsummer's Eve?"

He swam to her and drew her body close. "There," he said, holding her while treading water, "isn't this wonderful?"

Her lips began to turn blue, and she shivered against him.

"Let's get out, please, Robin."

"Of course," he agreed, swimming with her to the bank.

It felt even colder out of the water than under it, if that was possible. Marian began to shiver violently.

"Now comes the best part," Robin told her.

"Even better than the plunge into icy waters? I d-d-don't believe you."

"Believe me. Now c-c-comes the part when I get to w-w-warm you up."

He spread his cloak on the ground and they lay on top of it together.

Marian was immediately convinced. This was indeed the best part.

...

They discovered that the night wasn't cold after all. In fact, for a short time, it felt as hot as the desert in Acre.

"We need to go back to the cottage," Marian told Robin, not wanting to move just yet. The stars through the treetops blinked down upon them so beautifully in the black velvet sky, and she was so comfortable with her husband's strong arms enfolding her.

"I love you," she sighed, not for the first time this night.

"And I, you. But you're right. We shouldn't leave the children alone any longer."

Robin rose and fetched their clothing. He allowed Marian to wear his cloak, then realized in a flash, "You didn't bring your cloak! Where is it, Marian?"

She was still groggy from love. "I don't know. I must have left it at Kirklees Abbey."

Every nerve in Robin's body woke up. He walked Marian back to the cottage and looked into the faces of their peacefully sleeping children, then surprised his wife by bidding her goodbye.

"Robin, where are you going?" she asked, as he ran out the door.

"To Kirklees," he answered. "It's time I confronted the real witch."


	52. Chapter 52

Marian was fuming.

When Robin had told her he was about to dash back to Kirklees Abbey, she had stopped him by crying out, "Robin, no! Don't you dare go to Isabella!"

"I'm only going to talk," he'd assured her.

"Not in the dead of night, you're not."

"I'll be back."

He'd darted away a few steps, before Marian had stopped him again by angrily swearing, "Would to God I were a man, Robin of Locksley! I'd knock you down!"

Her irritation had only grown when he'd shot her a look combining admiration with amusement. "That's my Marian," he'd said cockily.

Not caring that she wasn't a man, she'd drawn back her fist and thrown a punch, but her husband was too skilled a warrior for her blow to strike. Laughing, as if this was all a big game, he'd grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, effectively disabling her.

It had made her even madder that he'd been careful not to hurt her.

"I'll teach you another way to lay a man low, soon as I get back," he'd said, wearing his cockiest grin.

The final insult came when he'd planted a kiss on her mouth, threw her a wink, then turned and disappeared into the night.

She couldn't follow and leave the children all alone. But wouldn't she just show him when he returned!

...

An abbey's walls were really no different from a castle's, Robin was thinking. Scaling them was just as simple. Simpler, really, for an abbey lacked the presence of scores of armed, burly guards, just itching to run you through with their swords.

His arrow held as he climbed the rope he'd shot from Marian's bow. Reaching the top, he threw both feet through Isabella's open window, and eased in the rest of his body.

The viper was asleep in her magnificent bed, he noted. Quickly, he searched her room, looking for Marian's cloak. When he didn't find it, he lined the outside pockets of his dark brown leather vest with Isabella's rings and earrings, then unsheathed his Irish knife and sat on the edge of her bed, mentally noting all his possible exits.

He shifted his buttocks, just enough to give the bed a small shake and awaken the beast. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave a gasp of fright when spying him.

"Good evening, Isabella," he said, his voice smooth and scornful.

"Is it evening still? I would believe it to be much later."

Propping herself up on her elbows, she let her coverlet fall away. She was glad to be wearing the scarlet colored nightdress.

Robin's eyes took her in, but one quick laugh was all that betrayed he had noticed. He was immune to her glamour and allure, being completely in love with his wife.

"Too late for you, Mother Bella," he said, mocking the name.

"It's never too late for love, Robin," she said, opening her lips and her blue eyes wider.

"Love?" he scoffed, fingering the blade of his knife. "You're incapable of it."

"I've never been offered it, not even as a child. How can I know what it is, when it's been denied to me?"

"You can stop your wronged maiden act, Isabella. I'm not falling for it tonight. I'm here for information, and I suggest you cooperate with me, and tell me what I need to know."

"Information?" she repeated, sitting up and edging closer to him. He didn't move a muscle, not even when she put her arm around his neck and began riffling her fingers through his hair. Holding onto him, she boosted her body up until her face was nearly level with his. "How boring. I can think of numerous other pursuits far more stimulating than gathering information, Robin."

"Such as?" He hated himself for encouraging her. Why had he said that? It had just slipped out.

Never again, he vowed. From now on, he would guard his tongue as carefully as he guarded his position. He needed to regain the offensive, and get what he'd come for.

In answer to his question, she whispered something shocking in his ear, and reached across his body to fondle his upper thighs, and more. He stood up, putting his body out of reach.

"Why so coy, Robin? You and I both know you didn't really come here to talk."

"I came here to retrieve my wife's cloak. You have it, Isabella. You kept it when Marian left it here, then wore it to fool simple men and women into believing my wife is a witch."

Isabella laughed lightly. "You accuse me of treachery and deceit? Me? The Abbess of Kirklees? Oh, Robin! Don't you know it's a sin to speak ill of the clergy?"

"You'd know all about sin, being drenched in it."

"I don't have the cloak," she said, acting bored. "One of my nuns returned it to Locksley, the day you robbed me. Unlike some people, I know what is mine and what is not."

"You're lying, Isabella."

"I'm not. Go on, search the abbey, looking for it. You won't find it here. And as for your charge against me! I have proof that I was here in the abbey the entire night your wife was seen conducting her witchcraft. I have the testimony of more than fifty nuns! You see, Robin, that just happened to be the same night I sacrificed my sleep to preside over an all night prayer vigil in the abbey church. I even offered up prayers for you! Wasn't that nice of me? So don't even try accusing me of disguising myself in your wife's cloak. After all, who wouldn't believe the testimony of fifty innocent, God fearing nuns?"

A bell tolled Matins. "Damn those bells," Isabella sneered. "Someone rings them every few hours, you know. I almost wish I were deaf, at times. Now you understand why I was so put out with you for shooting the bell and ringing it when you shouldn't. Now, if you're not willing to do something else you shouldn't, you may go. I really would like to get back to sleep. I was having such a fascinating dream about us when you woke me, and I'd really like to see if I can get back to it now. Goodnight."


	53. Chapter 53

Robin returned to his new home, the tiny dilapitated cottage in the depths of Sherwood Forest, frustrated and angry.

There was no doubt about it...Isabella had bested him! Robin was unused to losing at anything, and he wasn't taking this lost battle well.

His family slept. Even the gray kitten ignored his entrance, snuggling its tiny body against Marian's lovely form.

"Thank you, Lord, for keeping them safe," Robin prayed, pushing aside his anger for now.

He believed he'd done the right thing, holding himself back because Isabella was a woman. The rules of engagement were different when your adversary was female, and Robin felt his hands were tied at what he could do. Force was out of the question. So were threats. He'd have to use his head to beat Isabella. If he weren't so tired and the stakes, Marian's life, so high, he would welcome the challenge and set to work thinking up another plan.

At least he'd managed to rob the "abbess" again. He closed his fist triumphantly around her jewels he'd stolen, kicked off his boots, then lay down on the hard bed Will had made for him to share with Marian.

The kitten hissed a warning, positioning itself between husband and wife. Robin lifted it with his free hand and set it gently on the ground. "I saw her first," he said sleepily, then closed his eyes till morning.

...

Robin awoke to find the cottage empty except for himself and Grace, who was sitting perched on his chest, poking at his eyes.

"Good morning," he said, pleased to see his funny younger daughter. "Who is this lovely maiden who awakens me?"

"It's me!"

"Hello, 'Me.' "

"No, Daddy. It's me. 'No Grace.' "

" 'No Grace?' Now why do you call yourself-?"

He broke off laughing. He couldn't wait to tell Marian.

"You just brightened my day, Apple Blossom. Where's your mother?" Lifting his daughter off his chest, he sat up and shoved his feet into his boots.

Grace wiggled belly down off the bed and held out her hand. Robin took her soft tiny one in his, and let Grace lead him out the door, where he discovered Marian bent over the cooking fire.

"Marian," he said, grinning, "did you know our daughter just told me her name is 'No Grace?' Maybe we need to come up with more diverse ways to correct her."

Marian's response was decidedly cool. "Breakfast is nearly ready. See that the children wash their hands. There's clean water in the bucket."

Robin studied her intently. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

Still angry from last night, Marian ladeled hard boiled eggs from the bubbling pot, and brushed past Robin, bumping his shoulder as she passed.

"Help Ellen pour the milk," she told Robin curtly.

He knew he was in trouble with his wife.

Sometimes, he welcomed her little bouts of temper. It could be highly enjoyable to spar with her, and win her over again. But this morning, with his failed mission looming in his mind, he chaffed at Marian being angry for no reason. A wife should support her husband's decisions and stand by him, he was thinking, as he helped Ellen pour milk. His irritation at Marian's stubborness made his own rise to the surface.

Except for the children's chatter, the family ate in stony silence.

...

Immediately following the meal, while the children played within sight, Marian couldn't resist bringing up Robin's midnight visit to Isabella.

"So," she began, "did you find Isabella in her nun habit, or her harlot's nightdress?"

He knew his answer would ignite the sparks flickering under Marian's cool demeanor, but he made it his practice never to lie to her. "Mother Bella was attired in red," he admitted.

Marian's lips tightened into an angry smile. "And was she pleased to see you? The hour was late. I assume you found her tucked cozily asleep in her bed?"

Despite trying to control it, Marian's voice had risen.

"I stole more of her gems," Robin bragged. "Rings and earrings. Such small tokens will go a long way to feed our people, Marian."

He felt for certain he was treading on safe ground now, but he was mistaken.

"How very noble of you! You just couldn't resist, could you, Robin? You just had to sneak into her room, at night, to see her! I'll bet you just couldn't forget about her in that scarlet nightdress. So, how did she look? Was she every bit as tempting as you remembered?"

"Marian, stop! What are you doing? I only went there to clear your name!"

"Clear my name? How did sneaking into your former paramour's private bedchamber in the middle of the night clear my name, Robin?"

"She wasn't my paramour," he argued.

"From what you confessed to me before, she was."

"Put that aside and listen to me, for once! I went there to retrieve your cloak, to prove to the sheriff it was Isabella who posed as you."

Marian grew silent. "My cloak?" she asked quietly. "Oh! Robin! Did you take it to the sheriff? What did he say?"

Robin took a deep breath before answering. "She didn't have it," he admitted unhappily. "It wasn't there. And what's more, the sly bi-" He bit back the name, meaning to honor his wife by not swearing in her presence. He didn't realize Marian would have loved hearing him insult Isabella in the choicest language possible. "The sly vixen concocted an alibi. The night Nettlestone witnessed witchcraft, Isabella presided over an all night prayer vigil, with mandatory attendance for her nuns."

"Isn't she clever?" Marian snapped.

"It must have been the witch, that Gwyan," Robin thought out loud. "But how did she come by your cloak? And, dark of night or not, no one could ever mistake her for you. There was a full moon that night, enough light to see by."

"So we're back where we started," Marian commented. "Your trip was a complete waste of time. I hope you remember that the next time you feel the urge to chase after Isabella in her red nightdress."

Marian stood and flounced away, to empty the cooking pot and wash the children's cups.

Robin rose to his feet, angry at her parting shot. He strode towards his wife to pursue the argument, but was stopped by the approach of his former outlaw gang and their families.


	54. Chapter 54

The arrival of Robin's former outaw gang effectively put his argument with Marian on hold.

Robin took Will aside, but Much shadowed them, interested as ever in all of Robin's doings.

"Will," Robin began, handing the young carpenter Isabella's jewelry, "I need you to sell these and give the money to my people. Were they pleased to get the venison? Did you tell them it came from me?"

Much spoke up before Will had the chance to open his mouth. "You should have been there to see their faces! Well, you shouldn't have been there. I mean, it would have been too dangerous for you to show your face in Locksley, with the sheriff hunting for you! Not that you've ever shied away from danger! Oh, no! You go running toward it! Now, don't get any ideas, and head directly to Locksley! You stay right here, where you're safe, and let us take care of everything."

"They enjoyed the feast," Will finally managed to say. "They drank to your health, and to Marian's, and spoke confidently of your return."

"Good," Robin said. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Let yours be the doing of all good deeds!" Much piped up proudly.

Robin's face broke into a grin, and he clapped his hand on Much's shoulder. "Ut Prosim," he added, almost reverently.

"What's that?" Will asked.

"Our Crusader's motto!" Much said with a swagger.

"But what does it mean?"

"I don't know."

Robin looked surprised. "You don't know?"

"No," Much admitted, his wide eyes darting wildly from side to side.

"But how can you not know?"

"You never told me!"

"You never asked!"

"Ut Prosim," Djaq repeated, joining them and taking her husband's arm. "That's Latin for 'That I may serve.' "

"Is it?" Much was delighted to finally learn the meaning of the motto he had spouted in the Holy Land. "I always thought it meant something like, 'Take no prisoners.' Because, you should have seen what happened to them, if we did! No, you shouldn't! We don't want to remember that, do we, Robin? King Richard was merciless!"

"He only did what he thought he had to." Robin was quick to defend his former king, even though, in his heart he agreed with Much.

Allan sauntered over to join them. "Clever bugger, Richard. Getting his soldiers to shout out rubbish about it bein' their duty to serve him, so they wouldn't mind gettin' slaughtered."

"It _was _our duty, Allan," Robin said, incredulous.

"Well, it wasn't mine. And not bein' funny, but it's not yours anymore, either."

"You don't know anything about anything," Much scolded him.

"I know more than an idiot like you!"

"Quit your squabbling," Little John shouted, from a bench surrounded by the children who were busily climbing all over the gentle giant.

Robin leaned against a tree and quoted, " 'If any man desire to be first, he must be the last of all, and servant of all.' "

"Very good, my son," Friar Tuck approved, waddling forward.

"More rot from the Turk Bible?" Allan scoffed. "Sorry, Djaq," he added, answering the glare Will had thrown his direction.

"Not the Turk Bible this time," Robin grinned, "but our own Christian one."

"Our own Lord's words," Tuck added. "You'd do well to show your face in church once in awhile, Allan, and learn of our Lord's wisdom."

"Allan does alright." Robin rushed to Allan's defense. "He's giving up two day's custom in his own business, just to come here and help my family." He turned and faced the tavern keeper. "I thank you, my friend." Facing the rest of the gathering, he added, "I thank you all."

"It's alright, Robin," Will told him. "We're happy to do it."

"Well, then," Robin said, rolling up his sleeves, "let's get started, shall we?"

...

Robin was happy to have physical labor to occupy him, and the company of true, loyal friends. It took his mind off his quarrel with Marian. All the same, whenever he'd glance her direction and meet her gaze, her eyes flashed angrily, causing his to flash right back at her.

The men finished repairing the roof by midmorning, and the woman set to work sweeping all the dust brought down into the cottage.

Robin led the men to the stream to bathe the sweat off their faces. His eyes lingered on the crushed grass, where he and Marian had been so ardently happy last night. It felt as though ages had passed since they'd lain together, their two hearts beating as one.

Leading his men downstream, they came to a place where fish had gathered. "There's our dinner, lads!" Robin happily announced.

"Fish, I like."

"But, Robin, we don't have any nets! What'll we do? What'll we do?"

"Just watch me, Much!"

Robin tied a long piece of twine to an arrow, just under its head. Intently, he studied the waters of the stream, then took careful aim and loosed his arrow.

"Please!" Much snorted.

"Not bein' funny, but even you can't-"

Robin smirked as he yanked the end of the string, pulling up his arrow neatly speared through a thrashing salmon. Until today, only Marian had witnessed this incredible feat from England's greatest archer.

"Nice!" Allan approved. "But can you do it again?"

"We're very hungry, my son."

Robin obliged, and the men soon returned to the cottage with a heaping basket of fish.

"God's bounty," Tuck smiled.

"And Robin's skill!" Much bragged. Robin swaggered as Marian took the fish.

"Showing off again, I see," she said smugly.

"Just providing for my fellow man. Even with your bow, I can work wonders."

"Humility, Robin," Tuck warned. "Always strive for humility."

"Pompous old bag of gas," Allan whispered to his wife, causing her to giggle, "Which one?"


	55. Chapter 55

Although Robin and Marian tried to hide the tension between them during dinner, every one of the adults visiting their forest cottage felt it in the air.

Allan a Dale decided to lighten the mood with an announcement. But first, he needed to get Annie's permission.

"Go ahead and tell 'em," she said, tweeking her husband's nose.

Allan rose to his feet and lifted his tankard. "What I got to say calls for ale, but since all we've got is water and milk, we'll just have to make due. Everybody, lift your cups in a toast to Annie, my wife, and to me. Lady Locksley over there wasn't the only one been plantin' seed this spring!"

In spite of his unorthodox way of informing the group, everyone except for Much rose to offer heartfelt congratulations to the happy couple.

"I don't see what's so special about planting a garden," Much huffed. "It's not as if he tilled the soil, planting fields to feed us!"

"They're expecting a baby, Much," Robin told his friend.

"A baby? I knew that!"

"Yeah," Allan said. "First child born in wedlock to either one of us. Guess we're officially old and respectable now."

"Never old, but always respectable," Marian told Allan, kissing his cheek. "I'm delighted for you."

"Thanks," he told her. Lowering his voice, he asked, "You and Robin alright?"

"Never better," she snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh. "Why do you ask?"

"You been starin' daggers at each other all mornin'. You want us to go, so you can have it out with him? Your makin' up'll come a lot faster that way."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Nonetheless, Allan managed to herd everyone out of the cottage, leaving Marian alone with her husband.

Robin wished to make up the quarrel, but Marian still fumed.

"That's wonderful news for Allan," Robin stated simply. "Maybe they'll have a girl this time."

"Yes. And in sixteen years you can sneak into her bedchamber at night and do Heaven knows what with her."

Robin's temper flared. "I am no lecher. I've given you no cause to accuse me unjustly."

"No? What about you and Isabella?"

"I told you I went there to find your cloak! If you knew how to listen, you'd know that already!"

"I know you came home empty handed!"

"Not empty handed! I stole her jewels!"

"Off her body?"

"Marian! Why are you doing this? You have no cause to be jealous!"

"I'm not jealous! Jealous was you against Guy!"

"Gisbourne! You still think of him? Why? What did you do with him, Marian, eh?"

"Nothing, unlike you with his strumpet of a sister! All I ever did was kiss him one time, and that was only to save your scruffy neck. I should have let him slice off your head."

"You almost married him!"

"Under duress, you know that, Robin! Perhaps it would have been better if I had gone through with it after all."

"I wish you had."

She stared at him, shocked and outraged by his words.

"I did not mean that," he told her, eyes sorry.

"I should have ordered the castle dogs on you, the first time you tried to lay your groping hands on me."

"It wouldn't have worked. Those dogs of your father's always liked me."

"They recognized one of their own kind, mangy cur."

"And as I recall, you had no complaints back then against my 'groping hands.' "

"You dare besmirch my name? I was always a lady, until you...you..."

"What? Until I what?"

"Oh, grow up!"

Robin, feeling he had won, began snickering smugly. Marian, unable to stand it, ran out the door.

"That's my Marian," he grinned, merrily following her.


	56. Chapter 56

Marian stopped fleeing her husband when she came upon the others, cheering on tiny Ellen as she shot targets with her child's bow and arrows. Ellen's face shone with pride, highlighting her resemblance to her father.

"Poor child," Marian thought. "You're beautiful, anyway. Can you help it if your father's a cad?"

Robin caught up, and lifted his daughter high onto his shoulders.

"That's fine shooting, Boo," he said. "I wonder if the rest of us can do as well."

Good natured groans erupted from the ranks of the former outlaw gang.

"Not bein' funny, but I haven't lifted a bow since bloody King Richard returned."

"Me, neither."

"Nor me."

"What?" Robin cried, completely forgetting his argument with Marian. He turned genuinely surprised eyes on his men. "You haven't kept up your shooting? After all I taught you?"

"It was never my idea of a good time," Allan explained. "I prefer to spend my time-"

"We all know what _you _prefer doing!" Much interrupted, over Annie's giggles. "I've kept it up, Robin! I practice with you all the time!"

"I know you have, Much." Robin stared again, incredulously, into the faces of his friends. He simply couldn't comprehend why they wouldn't want to practice shooting, after he had turned them into such fine archers. It was inconceivable!

Marian's curt voice cut through his thoughts. "Perhaps they have better things to do than show off their ridiculous tricks, like some performing monkey!"

The former outlaws shot looks at one another. Clearly, the argument between husband and wife still raged strong.

"Well then," Robin said, springing into action, "I think it's time we practiced again!" Swinging his daughter off his shoulders, he set her lightly on the ground and led the way further from the target.

"I, uh...I didn't bring my bow with me." Much tried to excuse himself from what would clearly prove to be a competition.

"Me neither."

"Don't even know where mine is."

Robin wasn't buying their excuses. Full of purpose and excitement, he proclaimed, "We can use Marian's! I've been using it, since the sheriff stole mine. It's sound. Trust me, lads! Now, who volunteers to shoot first?"

"I will." Little John only wanted to get it over and be done with it. He nocked an arrow to Marian's bow, lifted to aim, but was stopped by Robin's cry of, "Hold! Who's got Grace?"

"I do," Eve called.

"Good. Make certain she stays back." Turning a serious eye on all the children, he cautioned, "that goes for all of you." He marked a line in the earth with his boot heel. "Stay behind this line. Do you understand?"

The children promised to obey, and Robin's smile lit up his features once more. "Alright, then! John, I challenge you to shoot your finest. Don't let me down."

Little John growled, aimed, and missed the target by a good two feet.

"John!" Robin cried, truly surprised and disappointed. And then, more kindly, "Would you like to try again?"

"No!"

"Alright," Robin said, shaking off his disappointment. "Who's next?"

"I'll go, Robin!" The ever faithful Much longed to impress his friend and buoy his spirits. Much did not disapppoint. His aim was true, for he often spent time with Robin, practicing archery.

Much's face shone as Robin offered hearty praise and congratulations.

"That, John, is how its done!" Robin said proudly. "Who's next?"

One by one, the remaining outlaws disgraced themselves in their former leader's eyes. Robin tried to hide his disappointment, but chewed his bottom lip and looked grieved.

When Will's arrow missed the target by the width of a house, Robin could take it no longer.

"Watch me," he said, grabbing the bow. "I could hit the center of that target with my eyes closed! I could hit it shooting over my shoulder! I could hit it in a windstorm!"

In a flash, he nocked an arrow and raised the bow.

"In a windstorm?" Marian said lowly, at his elbow. "Really?"

Lightly, just as he was about to loose his arrow, she blew the gentlest of breaths on his neck and ear.

His arrow flew cockeyed, missing the target and slamming into a treetrunk.

There was silence. No one had ever seen the famous archer miss before. At last, Allan began to snicker. Little John roared out loud with laughter. Will and Djaq smiled, but Much was indignant, and sputtered out, "No fair! You cheated, Marian!"

"I believe it's my turn," she answered smugly, taking the bow from her dazed husband.

She had to physically push Robin aside, for his feet were made of lead and his head was spinning.

Marian aimed with care and let her arrow fly. It landed in the centermost ring of the target, next to Much's. The crowd, with the exceptin of Much and Robin, raised a hearty cheer.

"That's how it's done," Marian declared proudly.

With smug satisfaction, she handed her bow to Allan, and grasped Robin by his shoulders. His eyes still followed the mistaken path of his arrow.

"Look at me, Robin of Locksley," Marian commanded him, and he turned confused puppy dog eyes to her face. She nearly weakened at their expression, but steeled herself and hardened her heart.

"Be warned," she told him. "I am now going to knock you down, as you deserve. Are you ready?"

Dazed and confused, Robin could only nod. Marian drew back her fist and punched him squarely on his jaw. Reeling backwards, he tripped over his feet and landed face down in the dirt.

"And that's also how it's done," Marian announced, smoothing her skirts and strutting away.

Much flew to Robin's side. "Robin! Are you alright?"

Robin sat up, shaking the cobwebs from his brain. As he rubbed his jaw, a slow smile crept across his face.

"Marian," he said, under his breath, "how could you ever doubt you're the only woman for me?"

He jumped to his feet. "Did you see that, lads? She is incredible!"

Without waiting for an answer, Robin dashed after his wife.

He caught her swiftly by the arm and spun her around to face him. "I'm glad you're on my side," he told her, grinning.

"What makes you think I am?"

He answered by lifting her chin and pressing a kiss onto her mouth. When they finished kissing, Marian smiled and admitted, "I suppose I am, at least for now."

"No more midnight visits to Isabella," Robin promised, "though I swear to you I didn't do anything amiss. I never want to hurt you, Marian."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," she said sincerely, lightly touching his jaw.

"Well, you'll just have to kiss it better."

"Gladly."


	57. Chapter 57

That night, while the children slept, Robin and Marian cuddled up together in their bed, weary from a hard day's labor and the emotions that had accompanied their quarrel. They were happy to have made up, and Marian's lighthearted sleepiness made her more talkative than usual.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she said, snuggling her back against her husband's chest, "but I do miss our bed at home. This one is so hard."

Robin missed it, too, but especially the privacy it provided. The bed wasn't the only thing that was hard right now.

"How do they do it?" he asked.

"Who, do what?"

When he didn't respond, Marian rolled over to look at him. "What?" she asked smiling, urging him to continue.

Robin grinned back at her. "The serfs. Anybody who lives in cottages. They have dozens of children."

"I don't think we're so crowded. It's cozy, all of us packed so tightly together like this. I thought you liked it, almost too much. I was beginning to worry you wanted to stay here for good."

"I didn't mean how tightly crammed we are. I meant," and he kissed her in a manner leaving no doubt as to his meaning, "how do they beget all their children?"

Marian looked amused. "The same way we do, I imagine."

He laughed, and Marian shushed him so the children could sleep.

"I always thought Much was innocent, growing up," Robin admitted, "when all along, he must have known more about men and women than I did."

"Let's get your mind on something else."

"Good idea."

"Why don't we talk about a plan to clear my name so we can go home? Do you have one?"

"I do."

"Well, are you going to tell me what it is?"

"I was waiting for you to fall asleep, so I could execute it."

"Robin!" Marian leaned up on her elbows, angry at him. "Do you mean to tell me, you were going to sneak out of here without telling me where you're going? Where _are_ you going, anyway?"

"Shh!"

"Don't shush me!"

"Marian, it's alright. I was only joking."

"You don't have a plan?"

He snickered. "I love it when you look at me in anger."

She yanked the blanket and rolled away from him. "Don't touch me," she huffed, when he put his arms around her and burrowed his chin on her shoulder. Undeterred by her objections, he persisted.

"Don't be mad, Marian. I'm telling you now, aren't I? It's a good plan, I promise."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Her anger quickly melted away as Robin divulged his plan.

"I'm going straight to the sheriff and confront him about that false testimony against you. There were two pieces of conflicting so called evidence I didn't catch during your trial, only because I was so enraged I couldn't think straight."

"What were they?"

"Much as I want to kill Reynolds for watching you undress, his testimony about your scars will mean your freedom."

"I don't see how."

"Think about it. The people of Nettlestone claimed to have seen you throw off your cloak and dance naked. No one mentioned any scars. I intend to remind Sheriff Wilfred of that fact."

"While aiming an arrow at his heart?"

Robin smirked. "I'll need to borrow your bow, but not for long. I intend to take mine back on my visit to Nottingham, and my sword as well."

"Be careful," she said, wishing she could go with him.

"I'll be back before you wake up. And then, get ready to pack up our things."

"I won't get any sleep at all. You know that, right?"

"Don't worry, Marian. I've walked into many more dangerous traps, and lived to tell of it." He kissed her ardently, then rose to go. "Get some rest, my love. We'll all go home tomorrow, I promise."


	58. Chapter 58

Robin scaled the heavy stone wall and made his way stealthily through the dimly lit corridors of Nottingham Castle, heading toward Sheriff Wilfred's bedchamber. Now, how to get past the sentries guarding his door?

It was a simple matter to take the pair by surprise, catch the first under his chin with the point of Marian's bow, and disable the other with a stout kick to his gut. Then, to make certain they wouldn't disrupt his private audience with the sheriff, Robin used his fists to knock them temporarily senseless.

"Sorry for the interruption," he said, pacing between them to be sure they were out. "And the accompanying headaches."

With a triumphant grin, he flung wide the double doors of the sheriff's room.

No skulls greeted him, as had previously graced the chamber when Vaisey had dwelt here. There were no birdcages, either, just heavy oaken furniture and the usual trappings of state. From the snores coming from the bed, Robin could tell the sheriff slept soundly. His dreams were about to be interrupted and he startled awake by the former outlaw. Robin unsheathed his Irish knife and drew near the bed.

The sheriff drew in a great gulp of air when he awoke to find Lord Locksley crouching by his bedside.

"Locksley!" he cried. "God God, man, I always heard you had balls of steel!"

"And you, none at all," Robin said smoothly, fingering his knife blade. "What was that charade you called a trial, Wilfred?"

"Do you want money?" the sheriff asked, sweating under his nightshirt. "I can open the safe and you may take everything."

"Keep your money," Robin said scornfully. "I'm here for the truth. Why did you convict my wife? You know she's no more a witch than you are."

The sheriff gulped. He knew Locksley wasn't a killer, and yet, he didn't trust him not to kill, when his wife or children were threatened. He also knew Locksley had been well trained to kill, and could do it in the blink of an eye. He was more frightened than he'd even been before.

"Where are my guards?" he asked, wondering if Locksley had murdered them.

"Just catching up on their sleep," Robin sneered, hating the man for his cowardice. "It's late, you know."

"It is late," the sheriff agreed. "Wouldn't it be better to discuss this come morning?"

"Why wait? We're here now." Robin held his knife's long blade to the sheriff's throat. "So tell me, why did you let my wife's name be blackened with accusations of witchcraft? Was the Abbess of Kirklees behind your treachery?"

"The Abbess?" Wilfred was terrified. He had never had a knife held to his throat before. "No! She had nothing to do with this!"

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me! It's King John! He's the reason!"

"The king!" Robin couldn't hide his surprise. "Why would King John want my wife burned as a witch?"

"Well, he wouldn't, not directly. But he wants more bloodshed in the shire. He thinks I'm too soft, and wants to replace me with someone harsher. I wanted to prove to him I can execute justice as fiercely as any man he wants to put in my stead. When these accusations of witchcraft were made against your lady wife, I saw it as my final chance to redeem myself in the king's eyes, and save my position."

Robin removed his knifeblade and angrily paced the floor.

"You sicken me," he snarled. "You are no Englishman! You would see an innocent woman be put to death, a young mother, to save your position? You are the one who deserves to die!"

Reaching over his shoulder, he grabbed an arrow and nocked it to Marian's bow, then aimed it right between the sheriff's eyes.

"I should kill you right now for what you were willing to allow. Say your prayers."

"Don't kill me!" the sheriff cried. "I promise to absolve her guilt!"

"She has no guilt. She is blameless."

"Yes, of course she is! I mean, I will free her, and remove the charges against her."

"Wise decision. Do it. NOW!"

"But it's the middle of the-"

"I said now!"

"Yes. Yes, my lord!"

Robin kept his arrow aimed at Wilfred, while the chubby man tottered from his bed and hurried to his door.

"No tricks, Sheriff," Robin warned. "I've done this before, don't forget, with stronger adversaries than you. I want a pronouncement, and I want it in writing, clearing my wife of all charges. And, I want my sword and my bow back."

"You shall have them," the sheriff promised.

Stepping out the door to his chambers, he kicked his sentries awake.

"Wake up!" he ordered. "Ring the bells. Awake the castle. I need to declare Lady Locksley free and clear of all charges against her. She is no witch, and may return with her family to Locksley Manor."

"Don't forget my bow," Robin added, smiling.


	59. Chapter 59

That evening, under a waxing moon, Robin presided over a joyous celebration in Locksley. Members of his former outlaw gang, members of the nobility, members of the clergy, even members of the new merchant class, all mingled openly together with his serfs and servants, knowing that all were considered equals on Locksley's lands, as long as a person was honest.

The party spilled into every room of his house, and out onto the lawn. Everybody celebrated the family's return, and the dropped charges against the beautiful and kind Lady Locksley. That is, everybody but one.

Kate, the potter's daughter, scowled, even while downing Robin's best ale.

Robin was making the rounds, spending time with each of his guests, proudly showing off his son. "Look how he's grown," he jested to Friar Tuck. "I've half a mind to spend the summer in that cottage, just to give my children a chance to grow strong and brown from living in the woods."

"I would be interested to hear what Marian has to say about that."

Robin chuckled. "I said 'half a mind.' I'm not stupid."

Staggering toward Robin, Kate grabbed hold of his bicep to steady herself, burped ale, then said with a scowl, "You know your cat died."

"Moonlight? Not a chance. Look over there, Kate. See that flash of grey? That's him, darting away from Grace. One day she'll catch him, and he'll learn he was a fool to run; the same lesson I learned with her mother."

"I don't recall Marian ever having to chase after you," Tuck laughed. "Excuse me, my throat is dry."

"Again?"

Robin smiled after Tuck's retreating figure, then turned his attention to Kate. "Are you having a good time?" he asked politely.

"I watched a soldier drown your cat," Kate scowled. "He's supposed to be dead."

"Drown Moonlight? When did you see that?" Robin's smile had faded, to be replaced by thunderclouds.

"The night they took _her_ to the dungeon." Kate could never bring herself to refer to Marian as Robin's wife, being too bitter at not having him for herself. "A soldier stuffed him in a sack, filled with stones, and dumped it in the pond. So, that must not be your cat, but a stray."

Robin looked at Kate's bleary eyes, and decided she was drunk. "That's Moonlight," he told her. "We know our own kitten. Goodnight."

He felt himself being yanked back. For such a small woman, Kate was strong and wiry.

"I don't like it, your cat coming back from the dead. It's not Christian."

Robin knew there would be no reasoning with her. Even when sober, Kate couldn't see reason. He drew in a deep breath, summoning every bit of patience he could muster. "Assuming what you say happened, chalk it up to a cat's proverbial nine lives. That leaves Moonlight with eight more." His smile returned. "And considering he belongs to my Grace, he's going to need every last one. Goodnight."

He tried again to excuse himself, but Kate gripped his arm and wouldn't let him go. "You be careful," she warned him. "I don't like it."

"Go to bed, Kate," Robin advised. "Things will look brighter come morning." He feared she would be suffering from a hangover come morning, and he reminded himself to tell Marian, so she could pay Kate a vist and give her whatever soothing herbal drink she'd given him in the past.

"Put your boots in your chimney," Kate warned him. "That'll ward off witches."

"Goodnight," he repeated, jerking his arm free.

He hadn't wanted to consider his problem of the witch Gwyan tonight, feeling there would be plenty of time to think of a plan to deal with her after he first celebrated his family's return home. But Kate's words placed his problem at the forefront of his mind.

Happily, Marian approached him. She was growing used to these large gatherings in their home, for Robin loved to be surrounded by large crowds of adoring people. Marian much preferred quieter, more sedate gatherings, but she accepted swarms of people making themselves at home in her house, just because it made her husband so happy.

Much and Eve, imitating Robin, also frequently hosted large noisy gatherings at Bonchurch, with Much following his guests throughout his lodge with a towel, wiping up their spills.

"It's late. We need to get the children to bed," Marian told him, gently taking baby Edward from his arms. "Can you usher everybody outdoors?"

"I'm on it," he answered. "Have you had fun, Marian?" he asked first, looking like a small boy hoping she'd enjoyed herself as much as he had.

"It was wonderful, dear. But I'm tired now, and Ellen can barely stand. Grace has gotten her second wind, and it won't be easy for her to settle down, I'm afraid."

"I'll tell her a story. She'll fall asleep." He kissed his wife's soft lips, then ran inside their house to move the party completely outside.

...

Robin awoke in his own bed, refreshed from the best night's sleep he'd enjoyed in weeks.

Marian still slept beside him, her luxuriant dark hair spreading over her pillow, her thick lashes dark and beautiful against her pale skin.

Not wanting to awaken her, Robin carefully disentangled himself from her limbs, rose from their bed which Will had repaired during their absence, and stretched.

He smiled when he saw Marian's dark green nightdress on the floor, and placed it on a chair for her. He hadn't ripped it off her, knowing how much she liked it, but she hadn't worn it long. She had been as eager as he to enjoy the privacy of their bedchamber once again.

After donning clean clothes, Robin looked out his window on the morning. Most of his village still slept, a few on the grass outside his home. He shook his head, chuckling.

The laughter died on his lips as suddenly as it had begun. His extraordinary vision had made out something unusual in Marian's garden.

On every sturdy branch of every rose and lilac bush, hung the tiny twig figures made by the witch.


	60. Chapter 60

Furiously, with both hands, Robin tore down the numerous twig figures tied to the branches of Marian's flowering bushes and trampled them under his feet. He hoped he destroyed them all before anyone in Locksley saw them.

Isabella was behind this, he suspected. Even if it had been the witch Gwyan who had fashioned the figures and tied them to the bushes, he guessed it was Isabella who had devised the evil scheme to further implicate Marian as a witch. Well then, he would just need to pay a visit to Isabella, and her witch companion, before they struck again.

Reentering his bedchamber to arm himself with his weapons, he stopped at the sight of Marian, still in bed, but fully awake and smiling.

"Good morning, Handsome," she greeted him, looking alluringly beautiful as she stretched her arms over her head. "Isn't it heavenly to be home? How long have you been up? Come here and let me kiss you."

Robin happily complied, but remained grave.

"What's wrong?" Marian asked.

"I need to go, Marian."

"Go? Go where?"

He knew his answer would raise objections, but he prided himself on never lying to her. Strapping on his sword, he told her, "Someone tied twig figures all over your garden. I destroyed them, and now I need to destroy the plot behind them."

Confused, Marian rose and began to quickly dress, in trousers, Robin noted. Her husband's intensity made every nerve in her body throb, and she was determined to go with him, wherever he was heading.

"I'll come with you," she said. "Let me just get my sword."

She turned to reach for it, giving Robin his chance to dart out the door and bolt it shut from the outside.

Marian heard the bolt drop. Immediately, she ran to the door and began pounding it with her fists. "Robin of Locksley! Don't you dare lock me in here! You let me out!"

"Sorry, Marian. It's too dangerous. But don't worry; I won't go alone. I'll stop by Bonchurch and gather Much. I love you."

"I hate you! Open this door!"

Several servants came running, wondering what new adventure the master and mistress were up to now. "It's alright," Robin told them. "It's for her own good. Let her out as soon as my horse disappears in the treeline."

"Let me out NOW!"

Robin trot jogged down the steps of his manor house and out into the yard. While waiting for his horse to be saddled, he looked up, only to see Marian, armed with her sword at her hip, climbing out their bedroom window and down a rope.

Robin had left the rope in their room himself, to provide a way to escape in case of fire. "I guess she's coming along after all," he told his horse, resigned, amused, and proud of his wife's determination. "Ian, saddle a horse for Lady Locksley. Looks like she'll be accompanying me today."

The rope did not quite reach the ground. Marian dangled from its end, unwilling to drop, making Robin snicker.

With her back facing him, Robin lifted his voice and teased her, "What a nice, gorgeous, round target!"

"Don't you dare shoot me! You're already in enough trouble as it is!"

But he couldn't resist. Finding a blunt arrow with no point, he shot it lightly, with just enough force so she would feel it but not be hurt. She wanted to curse when it hit and bounced off her left buttcheek.

Marian was so enraged, she kicked herself off the wall of their house to flip backwards onto the ground, a trick she and Robin had mastered together as children, and one she had used to great advantage as the Nightwatchman.

"I warned you years ago never to shoot me," she stormed at him. "What has gotten into you this morning? Locking me up? Shooting me? If you expect any more romantic nights like the one you just enjoyed, you are sorely mistaken! You can sleep in the stables tonight, with the other beasts. Now, where are we going?"

"I told you, Marian. To Bonchurch."

"I mean," she fumed, swinging herself onto Llamrei's back, "after that."

"After that? We have two witches to expose. Have I ever told you, my love, how beautiful you look when you're angry?"


	61. Chapter 61

Marian was so pleased to have outwitted her husband, she forgave him for locking her in their bedchamber and shooting her behind with a blunt arrow. And after winning an impromptu race on horseback on their way to Bonchurch, she felt she'd put him in his place enough for his boorish behavior, and smiled at him.

"You know why I let you win," Robin told her.

"You didn't. I won because I deserved to. My heart is pure, and my horse is faster than yours."

"You won because I couldn't resist the sight of your hair streaming out behind you. You make my heart throb, Marian."

" 'Throbbin' Robin' can't admit he lost."

She rolled her eyes while he laughed. It felt as if they were on holiday rather than a mission, riding together in the fresh spring air, until they arrived at Bonchurch Lodge.

Once they had gathered Much, they put aside their carefree attitudes and allowed themselves to feel the importance and seriousness of their mission.

As they rode toward the witch's cave in the forest, Much's nervousness made him chatter ceaselessly. "You know why this is happening, Robin, don't you?"

"Enlighten us," Marian uttered dryly, knowing he would anyway.

"We've angered, you know, _Him."_ Much pointed heavenward.

Marian rolled her eyes for the second time that morning, but this time, she did it in vexation.

"Him?" Robin scoffed. "Speak for yourself, Much! My conscience is clear."

"Well, it shouldn't be! Oh, no! That's part of the problem!"

Robin invited Much to continue by giving him one of his half amused, half annoyed looks.

"What season is this?" Much asked, in a demanding tone.

"Spring," Marian answered, losing patience with their friend.

"Yes. Well, not that one. I mean, what _season_ is this?"

Robin remained silent, not wishing to engage Much. It was up to Marian to answer.

"It's Lent. What's your point, Much?"

"Lent! Exactly!" Much looked stuffed full of pride. "And how have you observed the season, if I may ask?"

Before Marian had time to answer, Much burst forth with accusations. "You have been throwing parties in your own honor! Feasting and drinking! Drinking and feasting! That doesn't sound very Lentlike to me!"

"You've been happy to join us," Robin reminded him. "You ate and drank more than Tuck last night."

"Yes. Well. But, all the same, we're supposed to deny ourselves during Lent. It's Christian. And traditional. We're not supposed to throw parties! That's the reason you've opened yourselves up to witchcraft, I think you'll find!"

"We've been fasting on Fridays," Robin defended his family.

"Our Lord was always being reprimanded for not observing Holy days the way the religious leaders wanted," Marian continued.

"He was?"

"Yes, He was. I'm not excusing our celebration," Marian continued. "I'm simply explaining that I don't believe the witch and Isabella's tactics were sent by God to punish us."

"Retribution," Much uttered, proud of his word choice.

"Think what you like," Marian said, becoming angry. "You don't have to join us."

Robin held up a hand to quiet them. They were nearing the cave.

Legions of twig figures dangled from branches surrounding the cave, and the air smelled fetid.

"I don't like this," Much said, crossing himself. "I hate it!"

Robin dismounted, as did his wife and friend. Leading the others, he silently approached the cave's mouth.

The heavy door was ajar. Not breathing, they enterred and looked for the witch. Only her hideous misshapen toad greeted them, his yellow watery eyes blinking from one to the other.

"Not here!" Much cried, relieved. "Now may we go home?"

"Perhaps she's out, doing mischief," Marian haphazarded a guess.

Robin, like his wife, wasn't ready to give up yet. He made a quick search through the cave, looking for Marian's cloak, and other clues.

Not finding what he sought, he led the way outside, then scanned the ground. Crouching, he pointed out tracking signs that meant nothing to the others.

"Look," he said, as if he had discovered lost treasure. "Someone else has been here, besides us."

"How can you tell?" Much wished he knew as much as Robin.

"The leaf mold's been disturbed. See? It was a woman, with small, slender feet and an average stride."

"I suppose you can tell us the color of her eyes and hair; her name and age, as well?" Marian teased.

"I can guess, and so can you," he said rising, a gleam in his eye.

"Robin! Surely not! Isabella of Gisbourne wouldn't come here! Would she? I mean, she's the Abbess of Kirklees! What would an abbess be doing, consorting with a witch?"

"We guessed she was all along, Much," Robin told him. "Come on! We need to go to the abbey, and see if any brand new novices have recently been installed!"


	62. Chapter 62

A sour faced nun silently escorted Robin, Much, and Marian through incense scented stone corridors of Kirklees Abbey, before depositing them in the locutorium, or public reception room.

"Thank you!" Much nervously told the retreating Sister. Robin voiced no thanks, angry at the disapproving stares the nun had paid his wife's trousers.

"How long do you think Isabella will keep us waiting?" Marian asked, impatient to confront their enemy.

Robin moved energetically throughout the chamber, opening doors and peering into chests. "Do you really think I'd give Isabella the upper hand? I thought you knew me better than that, my love."

"What then, Robin?" Much asked. "What's your plan?"

Robin's face registered pleasure when he found what he'd been seeking. Pulling forth a black habit and white veil, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Oh no!" Much cried. "I know that look! That look means trouble! You are _not _dressing me up as a nun!"

Marian grabbed the heavy garments and began donning them herself. "Of course he's not," she assured a very relieved Lord Bonchurch. "You'd make a terrible nun, Much."

"He's dressed me up as a woman before, you know!"

Robin snickered, and Marian bit back her own laughter. "Well, there's no need for it today. Be thankful I climbed out my bedroom window and joined you."

"I am! I am!" Much agreed. "And I must say, I am relieved! You go on, Marian, dress up and hunt for Isabella, while Robin and I wait here." Much made himself comfortable on an upholstered chair, and asked, "Do you think that wine is for drinking, or is it, you know...?"

When Robin didn't respond, Much poured himself a goblet, hesitated, then gingerly took a sip.

Mischieviously, Robin completed Much's question just as the wine entered his friend's mouth. "The blood of Christ?" Robin asked with a smirk, then laughed with satisfaction as wine exploded from Much's lips.

"Why do you do that?" Much cried out, exasperated.

"Do what?" Robin tried to look innocent.

"You know what I mean!"

"You're horrible," Marian told her husband, with thinly veiled fondness. "Why do we put up with him, Much?"

"I have no idea!"

"It's because," Robin smirked, "I'm irresitible."

"Let _him_ wear the habit!" Much exploded. "Tuck's right when he claims Robin needs lessons in humility!"

"That's why God saddled me with such a husband," Marian explained. "I'm excellent at teaching him such lessons."

She exchanged amused, fond looks with Robin as she adjusted the veil and wimple. "There! How do I look?" she asked.

"You look lovely, Marian," Much told her honestly. "You're the prettiest nun I've ever seen."

"Thank you," she said, smiling. Turning to her husband, she asked, "Well, what do you think?"

Robin drew close to her and whispered, so that Much couldn't hear, "I feel full of sinful thoughts, seeing you dressed like that."

"You're not serious."

"I am. That habit is having the same effect on me your green nightdress had."

"Well, there's nothing sinful about it. We're married, after all."

"That'll cure me," he teased her.

"You _are_ horrible," she cried indignantly, making him laugh.

"Now," Robin said, turning serious, "here's the plan. Marian, you wander among the nuns, looking for Gwyan. I have a feeling she's here, also disguised as a holy sister. Much and I will seek out Isabella. Let's agree to meet back here in one hour."

"What should I do to the witch if I find her?" Marian asked.

Robin grinned, amused and delighted by his wife's feistiness. "You don't need to do anything. Don't blow your cover, or hers. We only need to-"

Robin stopped midsentence. The door to the locutorium swung open, framing the beautiful and haughty Abbess, who grandly swept into the room to greet her "guests."


	63. Chapter 63

"Oh, my!" Isabella mocked, eyeing Marian in her borrowed nun's habit. "Do my eyes detect a new convert to my order?"

"Good morning, Isabella," Robin sneered, not giving Marian had a chance to respond. "It's time for you to say farewell to your evil schemes. We're on to you."

"You were _on_ me once, and we both found it quite entertaining," the Mother Abbess sneered cooly back. "So entertaining, in fact, I've been waiting for years for its sequel."

Marian's anger, fueled by the vile woman's attempts to reseduce her beloved husband, caused her to erupt. "You're the _real_ witch, Isabella of Gisbourne! You're the fiend behind my arrest, Robin's memory loss...everything! But you'll pay for your crimes, beginning today!"

Isabella, maintaining her cool, collected demeanor, faced Robin and requested, "Muzzle your bitch, won't you?"

Robin took a single, threatening step toward the unholy Mother Abbess, then stopped himself. Having to content himself with words, he demanded, "Apologize to my wife. NOW!"

"I refuse," Isabella stated, her manner resembling that of a juvenile, spoiled brat. "Unlike both of my husbands, and my louse of a brother, you, Robin of Locksley, are a true knight. You and I both know you would never raise a hand to harm a woman."

"He wouldn't," Marian agreed. "I would."

So saying, Lady Locksley drew back her fist and slugged Isabella's pretty jaw, sending her spawling to the ground.

Much crowed with delight. "Well done, Marian! I, for one, am certainly glad we fight on the same side!"

"So am I, Much," Marian confirmed. "You are a worthy fighter."

"Thank you!" Much looked pleased.

"Is it a sin to kiss someone in holy orders? My slugging nun," Robin said fondly, badly needing a kiss from Marian at that moment.

"The habit is just a disguise. My fist is real, don't forget, Handsome," Marian responded, enthusiastically kissing her husband. "Now that I've taken care of Isabella, what do you propose we do?"

"We need to find Gwyan," Robin stated. "Foul as she is, I believe she's been nothing but Isabella's pawn. If she'll confess to Isabella's part in her activities, we can have Mother Abbess here removed from the abbey."

"And sent far, far away?" Much hoped.

"Far away," Robin agreed. "Out of England, preferably."

Their conversation ended abruptly, when they heard a loud disturbance outside the abbey walls.

"Now what?" Much asked.

The three friends ran to look out the window, only to see sheriff's troops gathered at the abbey gates. Despite her fierce bravery, Marian shuddered. "They're not stilll claiming I'm a witch," she said, in a small voice.

"Open these gates, in the name of the king!" a guard demanded, and Robin watched a timid nun attempt to hold back the onslaught of sheriff's men.

"They're going to break down the gates!" Much cried. "Unbelievable! Break down the gates of an abbey? That is revolting!"

"Come on," Robin insisted, inviting Marian and Much to go with him. "Let's find out what's so important, the sheriff's men forget the sanctity of abbey walls!"

...

"So, Bryan," Robin addressed the leader of the Sheriff Wilfred's men-at-arms, "What's so urgent, you need to bully this holy sister?"

"Stand aside, Locksley," Bryan commanded. "We're here to arrest a witch."

"Not Lady Locksley again?" Lord Bonchurch demanded anxiously.

Bryan shook his head. "Her Ladyship is innocent," Bryan stated, wondering why Lady Locksley was wearing a nun's veil and habit. "There's a real witch hiding behind these walls, one that worships the devil in Sherwood Forest. Sheriff commanded me to bring her to him. No excuses. No delays."

"Does the sheriff plan to burn her?" Marian asked, shuddering. "It's true, she has caused much harm, but we believe she is but a victim, under the influence of-"

Marian's words were interrupted by Gwyan, silver hair stained a dark hue by the juice of walnuts, dressed in Marian's cloak. Everyone remained silent, as the witch appeared and stepped from behind the abbey walls to confront Bryan and the other men-at-arms.

"You are here to arrest me?" she asked, in her low, other worldly voice. "Take me to your sheriff. My Lord Satan will protect me from all earthly harm."

"My cloak!" Marian cried. "She's the one who impersonated me!"

Robin clapped a hand over Marian's mouth, and his wife lightly bit it, because she hated, above all things, being silenced.

"Ow!" Robin cried, looking surprised and wounded, withdrawing his hand.

"Bryan," Robin spoke up, "arrest that witch, if you must, but don't overlook her mistress. Isabella of Gisbourne, wrongful Abbess of Kirklees, is behind all of Gwyan's plots. She's within the locutorium, unconscious. Take her to Sheriff Wilfred, and have her tried for her crimes as well."

Bryan tossed Robin a glare. "That's old business between you," he stated. "It's common knowledge, you and her brother were sworn enemies. The feud between you has continued, but the sheriff has no interest in your private grievances. I'll not defile my soul by touching a holy Mother Abbess. Good day, my lord."

Bryan shouted orders to his men to take Gywan to Nottingham, and he and his men rode away.

"Well!" Much exclaimed. "At least one witch will meet her just doom!"

Marian watched Robin shake his head in dismay. "What troubles you, my love?" she asked him, feeling guilty for having bitten his hand.

"They didn't take away the true evil," he told her sadly. "I fear the sheriff will burn a deranged woman, while the real culprit goes free."

"Well, we need to let him," Much decided. "One fewer witch in the world can't hurt, surely?"

"Shall we go to Nottingham and meet with the sheriff?" Marian asked, looking beautifully remote in her borrowed nun's attire.

Robin smiled gratefully at his wife. "I love you, sacred sister, biting teeth and all," he told her.


	64. Chapter 64

At least for today, Marian was grateful for the simple housewifely duties of counting linens and planning meals. Anything was preferable to going to Nottingham to watch a witch burn at the stake. But that was exactly what her husband had been commanded by Sheriff Wilfred to do.

Gwyan was to burn at dawn, and Robin, as the chief peer in the shire, was required to attend the execution.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen..." Marian leafed through green table linens embroidered in gold with Huntington sheaths of wheat, trying to block out thoughts of how horribly painful it must feel to have flames licking one's limbs.

It had nearly been her fate, and she prayed this would be the one and only witch to burn in the shire.

Robin had no stomach for the duty, either. Last night, he had been distant and withdrawn, and had awakened in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat from another nightmare. And then, he had rejected Marian's attempts to comfort him.

Even Friar Tuck, known to speak out against witch burnings, had counselled them to let justice take its course in this case. And so, a woman, undeniably guilty of witchcraft, was due to burn this morning.

The hours couldn't move quickly enough for Marian. She anticipated her children rising, and eagerly looked forward to caring for their needs and being uplifted by their precious love and innocence.

The day promised to be fair, and she determined to busy herself with good things, to be strong and loving for her husband when he trudged home after witnessing today's gruesome events. Together, they would move past today, and somehow manage to root out the real evil, lurking behind the high stone walls of Kirklees Abbey.

...

In the early morning light, Robin stood grimly beside his friend Much, on the stone steps of Nottingham Castle.

Ever since Sheriff Wilfred had cowardly been willing to let Marian burn as a witch, just to save his position, he had become Robin's enemy. The short, portly middle aged man stood beside the Lords Locksley and Bonchurch on the steps, presiding over the proceedings.

"At last," the nervous man proclaimed to Robin, "I have caught the correct witch, and we will now see justice administered to everyone's satisfaction!"

"Not least of all, King John's. This should buy you time as sheriff, I think," Robin told him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sheriff Wilfred merely stared at Lord Locksley. The man was a puzzle, too difficult for the sheriff to understand. Well, time would erase this, and the strained but civil relationship they'd maintained in the past would assert itself again, no doubt.

Everything was ready to burn the witch, and Wilfred simply wanted to have it over and done with. The hag frightened him, with her vacant eyes, ancient gnarled hands, and youthful body. According to his jailor, she'd done nothing but utter curses upon his head, since she'd been taken prisoner. Let her burn! It would only be a foretaste to the everlasting fires of her damnation!

Robin and Much watched the woman as she was dragged toward the stake, and strapped tightly to it. Much half expected her to somehow escape and fly above their heads, the way he was sure a witch could do. But nothing like that took place.

Instead, there was a commotion, as an opulent coach, pulled by four magnificent horses, jostled into the outer bailey of the castle.

"That would be the Abbess," Sheriff Wilfred announced, nervously clearing his throat.

Robin narrowed his eyes at "Mother Bella" as she exited her coach.

"This brings back memories," she said breezily to Robin, joining him on the steps with a fresh hint of perfume. "I do so miss my brother and Sheriff Vaisey at times like this," Isabella continued cheerfully. "A clue...no."

"Good thing you enjoy executions so much, Isabella," Robin couldn't resist saying.

"And do tell me why that is," she countered, suspiciously.

Robin only smirked back at her, knowing she'd caught his threat.

Gwyan was crying out demented ravings for the Devil's ears, but switched to plain English, just as the torches were about to ignite the logs surrounding her.

"You cannot burn me!" she screamed. "The seed of Robin of Locksley grows within my womb!"

...

**(Note: This episode borrows from an old Scottish ballad, which tells the story of a woman who falsely accuses Robin Hood of fathering her child. There are many versions of this ballad, but the one I'm using has the actual father be a man called "Brown Robin," and so shall it be in my story).**


	65. Chapter 65

"My, my, Robin!" Isabella cooed, her blue eyes alight with mockery and amusement. "What an unusual turn of events!"

"Wh-wh-wh-what did she say?" Much was sputtering. "Unbelievable!"

Robin stood silent, his eyes open wide in surprise at Gwyan's announcement she was carrying his child. All eyes present flitted back and forth between him and the witch.

"Locksley, could this be true?" Sheriff Wilfred demanded to know.

"No!" Robin insisted. "She's lying to save herself. I never..."

"What?" Much asked, when his friend's voice trailed away. "Robin, you never what?"

"I never touched her," Robin continued, less certain now that he recalled his strange imprisonment in the witch's cave. Her potions had temporarily wiped away his memory, he remembered. What if, while he had no use of his reason, she had...? But was that even possible? He realized that it was.

"I'll accept your word, Locksley," the sheriff stated. "Commence the burning!"

"No! Stop!" Sweat broke out on Robin's brow. In a low voice, full of shame, he admitted, "It might be true."

"WHAT?" Much was outraged.

Isabella uttered a low, mocking laugh.

"Unbind the prisoner," Sheriff Wilfred commanded. "Fetch a physician to examine her."

Gwyan's cords were undone, and she was pulled from the stake and forced inside the castle.

After the sheriff's departure, Isabella placed her mouth just below Robin's ear and murmured seductively, "So much for your marital fidelity! Breaking the seventh commandment, Robin? My, my! Just as you did when we enjoyed our rendezvous! You've made a habit of it, it seems!"

"He hasn't, surely!" Much defended his silent friend. "And besides, he didn't know he was married when he...when he...when you two carried on together! He thought Marian was dead!"

"Ah yes!" Isabella mocked. "The grieving widower. How well I remember!"

"He wanted you to _be_ Marian," Much weakly tried to defend Robin's past actions.

"Much, enough, alright?" Robin told him. Taking his friend aside, he confessed, "I don't want to hurt Marian again. It's all I ever seem to do."

Much smiled sympathetically. "She doesn't think so, Robin. She thinks you make her very happy."

"But, this...again? We've been through this before, when Isabella lied, claiming she carried my child. Remember how hurt Marian was then? And later, when I assumed I was young Allan's father!"

Much laughed. "You didn't even remember you hadn't done anything more than kiss the fuller's daughter, Robin. You have to admit, that's funny!"

"This is no laughing matter. Marian will suffer again, all due to me. I'm supposed to protect, honor, and cherish her!"

Much stopped laughing, and stared kindly into his friend's grieving eyes. "Robin, you do. Marian loves you. She knows you're a wonderful husband. She'll see reason. It's not as if you meant to hurt her! I mean, you didn't willingly consort with that witch, did you? Did you? Robin?"

"Of course not. I don't remember anything, except for her trying to seduce me, and then you and Marian arrived to rescue me. I'm sure nothing happened. I hope nothing happened," he amended, less certain.

Isabella continued sneering triumphantly at them, and Much pulled Robin's arm. "Come on," he said. "Let's go inside, and see what's happening."

...

Inside the castle, Gwyan was babbling explanations while a physician examined her.

"A robin sang to me, outside my cave. He came every day with his song. I let him in, and he became a man, and we lay together. He came again, and tore down my children, jealous of them. He wanted only the seed of his loins to grow in me, not that of the wood sprites. So he killed them. But I gave life to more of them. More and more and more! And now, his child grows within my womb! I ate rabbit and cast spells, and now I carry his-"

The physician, unsettled by her odd rantings, interrupted. "You carry someone's child, that's God's truth. I will tell the sheriff. It seems you have earned an eight month reprieve, witch."


	66. Chapter 66

Robin returned home from Nottingham in time to join his family around the breakfast table. Even his infant son, balancing on Marian's lap, broke into smiling gurgles at his approach, and his two little girls climbed onto his lap as soon as he joined them around the table. As for his beautiful wife, she was studying his face with gentle, loving concern, sympathetic for the ordeal she assumed he had witnessed.

Yet here he was, about to tell her what had happened, thereby hurting her with the news. He felt unworthy of his family's loving regard.

"Will you eat?" Marian asked, but Robin only shook his head.

Marian could see the pain in his eyes. Handing her baby to Bridget Thronton, she excused herself, and went upstairs with Robin, so they could speak alone.

"What happened?" she asked kindly, knowing he needed to talk.

"She didn't burn. Not today," Robin answered her, his voice thick and his words halting.

"That's good news, I think," Marian responded. Her mind began racing, trying to divine what could have happened to so upset her husband.

Robin took her hand and led her to their bed. Sitting beside Marian on its edge, Robin took a deep breath and confessed.

"The reason Gwyan didn't burn is because she claims she's carrying my child."

Marian caught her breath. "No. I don't believe you," she said, her voice catching in her throat.

Robin stopped studying his hands and looked into his wife's eyes. "It's what she claims, but I can't believe it either. I swear to you, I don't think I ever touched her! Why would I? You are my love, my heart and soul, Marian. I never want to hurt you."

"Now I believe you," Marian declared. "I trust you completely."

"Thank you," Robin said with emotion. Reaching for his wife's hand, he clasped it tightly, then continued. "A physician examined her, and she truly is with child. I'm worried, because I can't remember what happened when I was under the influence of her spells and potions. I can't remember anything. But I think I'd know if I'd betrayed you. I'm certain I didn't."

"Oh, my poor love," Marian murmured, reaching to cradle his head in her arms. She was worried herself about what the witch might have done to him, believing that the unborn child might possibly be his.

"I expected you to be hurt and angry," Robin admitted. "I don't deserve you."

"I think you do. Now, we don't need to be sad. We have many months to think, and decide what should be done. I am relieved at least that no one was burned today."

Robin nodded. "I love you," he told her, his voice passionate.

She gently kissed his mouth. "Let's not waste the day in worry. Bridget has her hands full with Grace alone. Shall we go downstairs and see the children?"

Robin marveled anew that this beautiful, brave woman could love him.

...

Deep in Sherwood Forest, a brawny tanned Scotsman named Brown Robin stepped gingerly inside the cottage where Robin of Locksley had recently hidden his family.

The cottage looked spic and span, its roof newly thatched and everything swept clean and neat. This was his lucky day, finding such a place to live!

The Scotsman had been an outlaw in Sherwood for years. Once a member of John Little's gang, he had left, preferring to work on his own. But he remained a friend to Little John, and did not regret his decision to leave. Had he stayed, he might have become a member of Robin Hood's famous band, and he preferred solitude and a quiet life.

The only exception to his solitary existence was his recent liaison with a Welsh woman named Gwyan. He'd discovered her by accident, one stormy night when he'd taken shelter in a cave. The woman had been living there herself, and they immediately became lovers.

Gwyan was not an old woman, though her black hair had prematurally turned to silver, and she suffered from a crippling disease, making her hands appear old and withered. Their pain was excruciating, so Brown Robin had advised her to seek medical help from the new Abbess at Kirklees.

When she returned to the cave, she seemed cured of her pain, but she had changed. She had lost her mind, and Brown Robin had left her alone, with her new odd notions and witchery.

Every now and then, he still thought of her. At least, he liked to remember who she had been before she'd visited Kirklees. Making himself at home in this cottage now, he almost desired she was here with him.

"We could set up house togither, lassie," he wished, then chided himself for his sentimental feelings, and left to catch himself something to eat.


	67. Chapter 67

Sheriff Wilfred looked back and forth between the two lovely women petitioning him for permission to visit the witch housed in his dungeons.

This was Lady Locksley's first request for a visit, and she asked calmly, though with an underlying determination which reminded the sheriff of her husband. But Mother Bella, the Abbess of Kirklees, was nearly hysterical, demanding, rather than asking to see the prisoner. She had come every day with the same request, claiming she needed admittance to pray for the witch's immortal soul.

The sheriff made up his mind. "Lady Locksley, I grant you permission to see the prisoner. You, Mother Bella, may pray for her soul anywhere you like, except for the dungeons! After all, God can hear your prayers wherever you are. Good day, ladies."

"No!" Isabella shrieked, as Marian was led triumphantly to the dungeons.

...

Robin knew nothing of his wife's desire to visit Gwyan, for Marian thought it wisest not to tell him, lest he object.

Marian came because she needed to make certain the witch was being well looked after. No matter who the father of the unborn child might be, and Marian half believed it might be Robin, the mother needed care so that her child would be strong. The baby was innocent, after all. As was Robin, in Marian's mind, even if he had fathered the child. Marian attached no blame to him, knowing he had been under the influence of the witch's potions.

The jailor unlocked the cell door. A loud creak issued from its hinges as it slowly swung open, and Marian took a deep steadying breath before entering the cell.

Gwyan blinked in surprise at her visitor. Lady Locksley! This could only spell trouble, for this was the wife of the man she had falsely accused of fathering her child. Worse still, this was the woman she had impersonated, resulting in false accusations of witchcraft, and a sentence of burning at the stake! If anyone had reason to want her dead, it was Lady Locksley!

Yet the lady did not appear vicious. Far from it. There was pity and concern in her eyes, which was somehow harder to take then the angry accusations she was expecting.

Marian barely recognized the witch. Something within her had changed, and Marian found herself looking into eyes that held life, and hinted at a conscience. The empty soulessness was gone.

"Are they treating you well?" she asked, formally, but with a whisper of caring warmth underneath. "Tell me if you do not have all you need, and I will see that you receive it. Above all, you need nourishing food, I believe. Are they giving it to you?"

Gwyan crumpled to the ground, avoiding the kindness in the lady's eyes. It was too much to bear!

Now that she was no longer able to drink Mother Bella's medicines for her crippled hands, her mind had cleared, and she was herself again. She was no witch, but the medications, together with Mother Bella's suggestions, had made her commit treacherous, horrible deeds! She was guilty of witchcraft, and of lying about the Lord of Locksley fathering her child, yet she dare not withdraw the lie, lest the sheriff burn her immediately. After all, who would care if an outlaw's bastard unborn child burned along with its mother?

If only Brown Robin could rescue her, the way Lady Locksley's Robin had saved her from the flames! But Gwyan knew such thoughts were hopeless. The only thing she could do was to hold onto her lie, and save her child.

Perhaps Lady Locksley, with her kind eyes, would let the child live in the grand manor house, and be raised there by good hearted people. Robin of Locksley and his lady wife were known throughout the kingdom for their kindness and generosity, and Lady Locksley's kindness to her today seemed to prove the stories to be true. If only it could be so, then Gwyan would not mind dying quite so much!

She found herself being held in comforting arms, and lifted her face to look at the gentle lady who knelt on the filthy ground beside her.

"Do not weep," the lady was saying, "though you have cause. I believe the child you carry has changed you, or else I did not know you before. My husband and I will help you."

"You are too kind," Gwyan sobbed.

Marian stroked a gnarled hand, then drew hers back when Gwyan cried out.

"You are in pain," Marian realized. "I will bring you medicine."

"No! Please, no more medicine! It was the Abbess's medications that..."

Her voice trailed off, for she did not want to say too much, and endanger her life.

"The Abbess!" Marian exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me, the Abbess of Kirklees gave you medicine?"

Gwyan nodded her head sadly.

Marian continued, her voice growing excited as she guessed what had happened. "And now, you have not tasted her medicines while locked up here? Tell me this, are you truly a witch, or was it Mother Bella's potions that changed you?"

"I am no witch. I would rather live with my constant pain, than have it numbed, and my soul stolen from me! Forgive me, Your Ladyship, I beg you, for the evil I have done, to you and to your lord husband!"

Marian held the sobbing woman in her arms, trying her best to comfort her.

"One more question," she said gently. "Tell me the truth, and I promise no harm will come to you because of your answer. Tell me," she repeated. "Is Lord Locklsey truly the father of your child?"


	68. Chapter 68

Marian handed Ian her horse's reins and ran into her manor house, looking eagerly for Robin. She nearly collided with him as he came hurrying toward her.

"You shaved!" she exclaimed, temporarily forgetting her momentous news.

Robin, pleased with himself, grinned smugly as he took her in his arms. "I thought about Much scolding us for not respecting the Lenten season, so I thought I needed to give something up."

"So you shaved your beard? I don't think that counts."

"Well, I'm not about to give you up!"

They enjoyed a kiss, then Robin asked, "Well, what do you think? Do you like what you see?"

Marian grinned back at him while intently studying his face. "You look sweet and innocent. Deceptively so," she added, teasing him.

They kissed again, and Robin buried his mouth against her neck. Enjoying his nibbling kisses, Marian couldn't resist saying, "You look remarkably like the boy I fell in love with. I wonder whatever happened to him!"

Robin pulled away, laughing. "He came home from war, so I've been told, and married his sweetheart."

"Immediately? Wasn't there a bit of trouble first?"

"Trouble has a way of finding him."

They could hear their servants busily readying their table, and so relished these brief moments alone together before presiding over dinner.

"Hmm," Robin murmured, between kisses, "I missed you this morning."

"I missed you, too," Marian murmured back, then pulled away, suddenly remembering what she had been so eager to tell him.

"Robin!" she cried, "I nearly forgot! I found out you're not responsible for Gwyan's baby!"

"I didn't think so! But how, Marian? What have you learned?"

"I visited Gwyan in the dungeons," she explained.

"WHAT?"

"Settle down and listen. She's not a witch. She's only the victim of witch's potions."

"Let me guess. Isabella?" The name came out a sneer.

Marian nodded. "Mother Bella," she agreed, her voice edged in mockery. "And you're not the father. Gwyan hadn't touched you yet, when Much and I interrupted her attempt to seduce you. But you can't blame her. She wasn't in her right mind."

Robin bit back a cheeky comment. This was no time to joke.

"That's a relief," he said instead. "Thank you for trusting me. But tell me, Marian, who is the father?"

"Have you ever heard of a Sherwood outlaw named Brown Robin?"

"I have. But that's me, isn't it?"

"No. Not everything in this world revolves around you, Robin of Locksley, though you'd like to think it does!"

Marian's tale was interrupted by Thornton announcing dinner.

"You're not hungry, are you, Marian?" Robin asked.

"Of course I'm not," she agreed. Like her husband, Marian preferred adventure over food any day.

"So, are we off to find Brown Robin?" she asked her husband, after bidding their children a fond farewell and issuing instructions to Bridget Thornton concerning diapers, naps, and lessons. "And just how do you propose we find him?"

Their conversation continued as they mounted their horses. "By asking the man who still knows every rock, tree, and twig in Sherwood like a brother," Robin answered.

Marian lifted her chin. "To Big Bear's den, then?"

"Clever you!" Robin grinned, digging his heels into his horse's sides. "Come on, Goldilocks. Let's do our best not to break Papa's Bear's chair this time."

"It was Baby Bear's chair," Marian called back to him as her horse overtook his. "And I'm not blond!"


	69. Chapter 69

Little John knew that his friend Brown Robin had taken up residence in the secret forest cottage where Robin of Locksley had recently housed his family, when Marian had been falsely accused of being a witch. And that is where he led Robin and Marian, once they explained why they wanted to meet Brown Robin.

"He'll have to get to know you first," Little John warned Robin, "before you tell him about his woman. You can't go tryin' to charm your way 'round him."

"Can't I?" Robin smirked. "I expect he'll dislike me as much as you did, John, when we first met."

"No. No that much."

Robin snickered, but Marian stopped him with a warning gaze.

...

Arriving in the deepest part of the woods, they were pleased to see someone living in "their" cottage, for they had worked hard to make it a home. It felt satisfying and rewarding to think their hard work had not gone to waste.

Marian reached for Robin's hand when she looked at the beds Will had made for them, and the goat pen out back, and the neat firepit where they had cooked their meals and sat around talking, late into the night, after the children were asleep.

"And the stream's that direction," Robin reminded his wife with a wink. "Care for another midnight swim?"

She rolled her eyes in reply. "We're here on a mission, don't forget," she reminded him half sternly, halfway amused.

"Robin Hood and Maid Marian!" Brown Robin exclaimed, pleased to encounter the legendary outlaw and his lady, in the flesh, after Little John had introduced them. "You must listen while I sing you, 'The Ballad of Robin and Marion.' "

"Is this the one where I beat him in a fight?" Marian asked eagerly.

"You never did! I only let you knock me down when I realized I was battling a woman!"

"You didn't! You thought the Nightwatchman was a man, and I kicked you so hard you lay moaning in the dirt!"

Little John growled out a warning, and Brown Robin, ignoring them, cleared his throat and began to sing in a pleasant baritone. Marian remembered Gwyan mentioning the Scot had come singing outside her cave.

"As it fell out one morn in May,  
>When growth the green of Spring,<br>Young Robin to the Greenwood came,  
>And set him down to sing!<p>

"A maiden heard his sorry song.  
>Maid Marion was her name.<br>'I pray you, sir, harken to me,  
>And sing not so for shame!' "<p>

"Even in the song, Robin Hood sings a sorry song," Marian teased her husband quietly. Robin only shook his head, wishing Brown Robin would finish his song soon. But the Scot had only just begun.

"This Robin was a lusty youth,  
>And his face was fair beside.<br>Maid Marion found it hard forsooth,  
>From him her love to hide!"<p>

With that stanza, Robin sat up, grinning. "Ah, Maid Marian!" he teased his wife. "Was it truly so hard for you to hide your love?"

"It wasn't hard at all, considering I felt none," she shot back, proudly.

Brown Robin continued his song, as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Said Robin, 'I'm a warrior,  
>That many things can do!<br>To ride and hunt full craftily  
>And fire an arrow true!' "<p>

"Always bragging," Marian teased. "That part rings true, at least." But her teasing smile faded when she heard the next verse.

"Said Marion, 'I'm a noble maid,  
>And chaste as thou canst see.<br>So let me see thee fire thy bow,  
>For I die for love of thee!' "<p>

Robin laughed heartily and pulled her onto his lap, and Marian huffed, "Why do the ballads always make me such a ninny?"

"Shh! I want to hear how it ends," Robin told her with a wink. He couldn't have been more pleased with the song if he'd composed it himself, particularly the next verse.

"So Robin then to Marion said,  
>'Come lay thee down by me.<br>A merry time we'll have of it  
>If we two can agree!' "<p>

Marian stood and abruptly stopped the song. "I think we all know what direction your song is heading!" she told Brown Robin. "I, for one, have heard quite enough!"

"But you're missing out on the good parts, lassie," the Scotsman told her.

"I think not. May we talk frankly now?"

Brown Robin looked to Little John for advice. John nodded his head, so Brown Robin said, "Say your piece. I'll listen."

Marian told him sincerely how Gwyan's mind had been poisoned by Isabella's medicines and potions, and how she was imprisoned and charged with witchcraft.

Brown Robin was aghast. "But they'll burn her!" he cried out.

"Not if we rescue her first," Robin of Locksley told him, with brazen confidence.

Reaching under his shirt, he pulled out one of his outlaw tags on a string of twine, and held it out to the Scot. "Ever seen one of these?" he asked, watching it swing, wearing a cocky smirk on his lips.

Brown Robin shook his head. He never thought he'd see the day when he would willingly become a member of Robin Hood's gang! Grudgingly, he took the tag and pulled it over his head.

"But, once Gwyan is safely here with me, that's the end of my allegiance to you!" he told a baffled faced Robin Hood.

...

**(Note: Brown Robin's song was adapted from The Ballad of Robin and Marion, written by David Munrow for the 1972 motion picture, Henry VIII and His Six Wives. In the film, musician Mark Smeaton sings the song to Anne Boleyn.)**


	70. Chapter 70

While Robin was staring in bafflement at Brown Robin's lack of enthusiasm over becoming an honorary member of his gang, Marian's mind was busy. "I have a plan," she proudly announced.

"YOU?"

Robin hadn't meant to sound so insulting. It was only that he was used to being the one to say those words.

"Yes, me," Marian answered him with a wilting look. "Do you find that so hard to believe?"

"Alright, Marian," her husband invited, folding his arms across his chest and swaying slightly from side to side, "tell us your plan."

"Not until you wipe that superior expression off your face," she told him.

"Superior expression? On this face? I don't think so."

"Yes, on that face! That freshly shaven, oh so smug, and very beloved face," she replied, smiling.

During their exchange, they had moved closer and closer together until they stood face to face. Robin leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him with a firm yet gentle lift of her hand.

"Please try to stay focused on our mission," she told him. He grinned happily back at her, delighted by her behavior.

Brown Robin looked questioningly at Little John. "This is the legendary couple of ballads?" he asked.

"Arguing, they like," Little John growled. "Besting one another, they also like. But they'll save your lassie. None can do it better."

"Thank you, John," Robin said, having overheard his friend vouch for him. "Now, I do believe my lovely wife was just about to tell us her plan. Marian?"

"Yes, thank you. I was thinking that I could visit Gwyan in the dungeon again, and switch clothing with her. Then, when the jailor comes to let me out, Gwyan will walk out with him instead."

"Leaving you locked in the dungeon." Robin snickered. "I'd like your plan, my love, if it was any good."

"Oh, so you think you can come up with a better one?"

"Yes."

"Alright, let's hear your ideas, if you can stop snickering long enough to tell us."

"First, let me tell you all the flaws in yours."

"Of course! Please, Robin, do enlighten us!"

"First of all, unless the jailor is blind, and deaf, or extremely stupid, he won't be fooled by two women merely changing costumes."

"An entire village mistook Gwyan for me!"

"At night, from a distance! Not to mention, their tongues told lies because Isabella offered them money."

"I still think we could do it. Look how many times you fooled people, just by wearing a hood over the top of your head!"

"Granted. But on to Flaw Number Two. How do you propose to get out of the dungeon, once you're locked in Gwyan's cell? You're not proposing I come rescue you, surely?"

"In your dreams."

"Well then, my love, tell us! How will you escape the dungeon?"

"I'll just tell the jailor Gwyan used witchcraft and he'll let me out."

Robin remained silent for several moments, as an idea took shape in his mind. At last, his face lit up in a wide grin, and he lifted an objecting Marian into the air and spun her around three times. Setting her dizzily down on her unsteady feet, he kissed her heartily on her cheek and declared, "Men, feast your eyes on my lady wife! Not only is she the loveliest lady in Christendom, she's also the smartest!"

"So, you like my plan, after all?" Marian asked, pleased and surprised.

"It's terrible. But, it gave me a brilliant one of my own!"

Marian stared at her husband in annoyed frustration, as he grinned triumphantly back at her.

"Patience," Little John told Brown Robin. "He has a plan."


	71. Chapter 71

Brown Robin paced nervously just outside the west gate of Nottingham Castle.

"This is the reason I work alone," he told his friend Little John. "I've never had to depend on other's wild schemes, like your Robin Hood's!"

"Robin'll make it work. Trust him," Little John calmly advised.

"Trust him? I've never heard of such melarky! Puffing powders, giant toads, and costumes! Why cannae you and I storm the dungeons and save Gwyan ourselves? We're big enough!"

"Robin knows what he's doing. If anyone can storm the dungeons and offer up a fight, it's Robin. Do just what he says, and you'll get back your lassie."

Brown Robin shook his head and sighed. "Very well, John, but I wish I'd ne'er heard of puffing powders, giant toads, costumes, or bloody Robin Hood."

...

Marian thanked the jailor and entered Gwyan's cell, this time carefully concealing items for a rescue beneath her cloak, and a servant maid's costume underneath her gown.

Robin had come with her all the way to the dungeon cell, voicing husbandly concern for his wife's safety, and now steered the jailor away with a flask of ale and a friendly man-of-the-world attitude.

"What shall we drink to?" he asked the jailor.

"How about long life to King John?"

"King John, then," Robin agreed, though it pained him to say it.

Once the men were completely out of sight, Marian quickly removed her cloak and gown, and then shed the servant's gown as well. "Put this on," she ordered, pulling her own gown back over her head. "When you escape through the castle, let anyone who sees you believe you are a servant."

"Escape? How? I don't understand."

"We don't have time for explanations. Just do what I say and put on the gown. We're getting you out of here."

With a worried expression, Gwyan obeyed Lady Locklsey's demands and changed her dress. To her alarm, Marian began to cry out for help.

"Oh, help me! Please! Someone, please let me out! She's casting spells!"

"Your Ladyship, I'm not a witch! Remember? I thought you believed me!"

"I do! It's only part of the plot to save you. Now, just go along with it." She raised her voice again, continuing to cry out for help.

Robin and the jailor came running. "Let her out, before the witch's spells hurt her!" Robin demanded. The jailor reached for his keys.

While his attention was diverted on his keys, Marian slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a handful of powder Robin had secured from Djaq, then flicked it into the jailor's face.

"Witchcraft!" the jailor screamed, just before Robin brought both his fists down on the jailor's head. The man never knew what had hit him, and sank to the ground.

"He's out, but not for long," Robin told the women, reaching for the jailor's keys and trying them, one after another, in the door's lock.

The fifth key opened the door, and Robin pulled a bewildered yet elated Gwyan out the door, then relocked Marian in.

"Robin!" his wife cried. "Why are you locking me in?"

"Didn't I tell you that part of the plan?" he asked with false innocence, returning the keys to the unconscious jailor. "You need to stay here, Marian, and play the injured lady. Remember to fake a pounding headache, just like the one the jailor will have when he awakens, alright, my love? Not that you'll be any good at it. Thankfully, you don't have any practice feigning headaches, never pulling that stunt on me the way I've heard some wives do, to put off their husbands."

"Robin of Locksley, if you lock me in here, I swear to you I'll develop that habit of faking headaches, more frequently than there are days in a week!"

"And miss out on all the fun of being my wife? I don't think so."

"Fun? You call this fun?"

"I'm not talking about this, and yes, I do call it fun."

Gwyan pulled his arm to get his attention and end their debate."I thought you said we haven't much time!" she reminded them.

"Right!" Robin said, seriously refocusing on the mission. "I'll be right back, Marian, as soon as I deliver Gwyan into Little John's hands. From there," he told the former witch, "you'll be escorted to your new home in the forest, where I'm sure you'll be very happy. We were," Robin said, with a wink and a loving smile to his wife.

"Go!" Marian ordered them, returning his smile.

Once they had gone, she pulled forth a box from beneath her cloak, then cringed as she opened it. Inside squatted the huge ugly toad from Gwyan's cave.

"Hello, Gwyan," she greeted it coldly. "For that's who you are, according to my husband's plan. Let's only hope the sheriff will believe it."


	72. Chapter 72

Gwyan's rescue went off without a hitch, and now, she and Brown Robin were safely and euphorically housed together in the secluded cottage, deep in the heart of Sherwood, along with a male and female goat, a dozen chickens, and all the supplies they could ever need.

"And no more thieving," Robin warned them. "If you need anything at all, come see me."

"Yes, my lord," Brown Robin gratefully thanked him.

"And one more thing," Robin said.

"My lord?"

"I'm just 'Robin,' alright? Now, don't forget, you are an honorary member of my gang. Live up to that honor, and don't let me down."

"I shan't, my lo-Robin."

"I don't know how we can ever thank you enough," Gwyan told both him and his wife.

Marian reached out and hugged her. "Take care of yourselves," she said fondly. "We'll stop by regularly, and look in, especially when the baby's birth draws near. And tomorrow, I'll bring you good medicine for your hands, an ointment from my friend Djaq, to ease your pain without any unwelcome side effects."

"Thank you, milady."

"I'm just 'Marian,' " she said, following her husband's example.

She turned back, just as she and Robin were stepping through the door to return home. "There is one more thing," she said, as though remembering something vitally important.

"Yes?" Gwyan and Brown Robin gave her their attention.

Robin, too, looked at his wife expectantly. There was a twinkle in her eyes he couldn't resist.

"Beware the stream," she warned, with a smile.

...

"Now, that was a successful operation, I think," Robin bragged to Marian, as they rode on horseback back toward Locksley. "You see, I came right back to you and feigned a headache, as if the 'witch's' spell had knocked me out, too. You should have known I wouldn't have left you alone in that cell."

Marian peered at him from under raised brows. "I'm glad the sheriff fell for it. Did he really burn the toad for being a witch? Poor toad."

"Well, better it than Gwyan." Robin let out a sigh of relief. He felt uncomfortable, thinking how close Marian herself had come to burning. Conquering his uneasiness by burying it deeply within him, he regained his jaunty attitude, not realizing he would only face nightmares later. "It was a nice touch, I think," he continued, "having you set the toad on top of Gwyan's discarded gown. Glad you obeyed my orders, for once."

"I haven't completely forgiven you for locking me up, you realize," Marian informed him. The challenging look on her face made him forget his cares, and he grinned smugly back at her.

"But, my love! I was only borrowing from your plan! I couldn't completely ignore your clever scheme."

"You're far too pleased with yourself. I'll make you pay, Robin of Locksley."

He laughed. "I look forward to it."

...

Tucking his little girls into bed that night, Robin drew in his breath when Ellen asked, "Daddy, where do babies come from?"

He knew to expect that question one day, but had assumed he had a good many years yet before dealing with it. Her sharp little ears must have overheard something about Gwyan's expected baby.

"Well," he said slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, "God makes babies. With the help of husbands and wives."

He hoped that would suffice for now.

"But what are they made from?" his bright little girl asked, complete trust shining in her eyes.

That question he was prepared to answer.

"Some say it's 'Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails' for boys, and 'Sugar and spice and everything nice' for girls."

He grinned down into the precious faces of his two daughters. He definitely could agree that Ellen was made of "Sugar and spice and everything nice," but Gracie had a few "puppy dog tails" thrown into her make up, as well. Only tonight at supper, she had dipped her finger in her pudding and smeared a mustache and beard back on his face. He still felt stickey.

He kissed his angels goodnight, then Gracie insisted, "I want Mama to kiss me, too."

"She'll be right along, Apple Blossom, once she rocks Edward to sleep. Goodnight, girls."

With a spring in his step and the warmest of glows in his heart, he quietly left their room.

...

Thirty minutes or so later, Robin sat up in bed, naked, waiting for Marian to join him. His heart throbbed wildly when he saw her, dressed enticingly in her dark green nightdress, approach the bed.

The cover was drawn up over Robin, just above his waist, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

Marian climbed onto the bed and sat facing him. "It's been quite a day," she said, smiling, secretly admiring her husband's fine, hard torso.

"It promises to be quite a night, I think," he replied, his voice thick with desire. Reaching out his hand, he tenderly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"If only I didn't have such a headache."

Robin froze, then began to chuckle. "You're evil, Marian," he said.

"Is that any way to talk to your ailing wife? You're such a cad."

With a heavy breath, he reached for her, but she stopped him with a gesture. "No touching," she ordered.

Robin squirmed uncomfortably under the blanket, but his grin widened. "This isn't just making me pay, you know, Marian. This is cruel and unusual torture."

"Good. You may take consolation in the fact you're not the only one hurting. My head is pounding, you know."

"My heart is pounding. Show me some mercy, my love."

She responded by touching her forehead, looking pained, and uttering a soft groan.

"You're in luck," he told her. "I happen to know a wonderful cure for headaches." Unable to stand it any longer, he seized her in his arms, and began kissing her face, neck, and shoulders.

Marian didn't object. She was through teasing him for now. "You were sweet tonight, telling the girls that poem," she said, her breath coming out in short pants.

"Sugar and spice? That's you, too. And fire. And ice."

Things were heating up quickly between them. The green nightdress was coming off.

"And pink and white silk, and flowers," he panted, taking her in through all his senses. "And the milk of human kindness."

But his description pleased her best when he added, "And iron. I thank God I love such a strong woman."

Marian stopped his talk with her enthusiastic mouth.

Her husband's predictions had been correct. It did turn into quite a night.


	73. Chapter 73

_"I am ready."_

_Marian, wrists bound behind her back, walked bravely toward the stake in the Nottingham's marketplace. She held her head high, and only Robin, who knew her so well, could detect a glimmer of fear in her beautiful eyes, viewing her from an upper story window in his hidden position. _

_Robin raised his bow and aimed to kill Bryan, one of the two guards flanking Marian. But his very life seemed to drain out of him when he realized his quiver was empty. No! He'd just have to rescue Marian by other means._

_By the time he'd reached the ground to push his way through the throng of curious spectators, Marian was already tied to the stake. Robin could hear the voice of the priest, intoning Latin prayers for the soul of the accused, and especially for those who had come to watch her burn. The voice grew higher and higher, until it was transformed into a hated, familiar female voice. _

_Robin found himself face to face with "Mother Bella," as she bestowed the sign of the cross over the heads of the crowd. With a battle cry and a single swipe of his scimitar, he sliced her head clean off her body. _

_Her body sank, and her head rolled a few feet away, to rest in a pool of its own blood. But her eyes continued watching him, while her words began their typical, spiteful mockery._

_"Now, now, Robin," the disembodied head began to scold, "is that any way to treat your future Lady Locksley? For once she's dead, you will marry me, you realize. You took me for your wife that day in the meadow, years ago, when you ravished me."_

_Her voice did not stop, yet Robin tried his best to ignore her. His beautiful, kind, beloved wife was to die, unless he could save her!_

_"I forgive you," he heard Marian tell her executioner, the man under a black hood, who was just about to ignite the logs at Marian's feet. "I never believed you evil, Guy," she added._

_"No!" Robin threw himself at Gisbourne, tearing the hood off his head and knocking him to the ground._

"Robin! Robin, wake up!"

"Marian!"

Robin's eyes were wild and his breathing labored, but his pounding heartbeats gradually began to slow when he realized it had only been a dream.

Marian gently pushed him back to a reclining position, and cradled him in her arms. She knew that running her fingertips gently through his hair was an effective way to soothe him, and although she adored the feel of his hair, she longed for the day when there would be no more nightmares, and this would no longer be necessary.

"My sweet husband," she said softly, over and over again, easing away his tension.

Robin held onto her more tightly than was comfortable, but she didn't complain. She guessed he must have been dreaming again of the time in Acre when Gisbourne had stabbed her. But Robin refused to say, and she did not push him.

Rather, she continued to comfort him in her tender, loving way.

"It's Holy Week," she said, to put his mind on other things. "The girls' new Easter dresses are lovely. And you just wait until you see how adorable Edward looks in his new clothes."

"You're not thinking of dressing me in an identical outfit, I hope."

Marian smiled. "What a wonderful idea! I wonder whether Bette could make you one in time?"

"I thought you paid me back last night. Or tonight. Whichever it was."

"It was wonderful, whatever you choose to call it."

"It was."

Marian was convinced that Robin was soothed. She was exhausted, and needed to sleep. "Goodnight, my husband," she sighed, snuggling against his arm and burrowing deep under the covers.

"Goodnight, my wife. I love you so much, Marian."

"I love you." She could barely voice the words, she was so sleepy.

Robin heard her gentle breathing while she slept, but he knew there would be no more sleep for him tonight, not while Isabella still held power as Abbess of Kirklees.

Stepping from the bed, he dressed, then bent to brush his lips across Marian's cheek.

"I promised you no more late night visits to Isabella's bedchamber, and I'll keep my word. But the instant dawn breaks, I'll storm her chambers and root her out, once and for all."


	74. Chapter 74

Robin's temper toward Isabella burned as he scaled the abbey wall. He knew he couldn't lay so much as a finger on her person to hurt her, but he had come to upbraid her, and to gloat. For even if she was safe from the weak and cowardly Sheriff of Nottingham, Robin knew of others in power who wouldn't hesitate to banish her from Kirklees Abbey, once he informed them of her treachery.

Chief among them was Geoffrey Plantagenet, bastard son of King Henry II, and thereby half brother to the late King Richard and living King John. Geoffrey, as Archdeacon of Lincoln and Archbishop of York, was the most powerful ecclesiastic in the north of England, and a sometime friend to Robin of Locksley. At any event, Geoffrey enjoyed hunting with Robin and dancing with Lady Locksley better than books and priests, and stole every opportunity he could to visit Nottinghamshire whenever celebrations afforded him those pleasures. A few words from Robin concerning Isabella, together with an invitation to visit his estate, and Isabella could pack her bags and disappear forever.

Having reached the Abbess's open window at last, Robin deftly climbed through it, but froze in surprise at hearing the sound of heavy snores coming from the bed.

"So much for your vow of chastity," Robin quietly smirked.

He received his second shock of the dawn when he pulled back the bedcurtains and saw who slept beside Isabella in her opulent bed.

"Mercadier!" Robin cried.

The captain of King Richard's mercenaries awoke with a start at the sound of his name, and stared with surprise and scorn into the handsome face of the former Captain of King Richard's Private Guard. The two men, although both having fought on the same side and having been intensely loyal to Richard, had never been friends. Mercadier, with his ignoble birth, pox marked unremarkable face, and position as captain of paid soldiers, always felt inferior to Sir Robert Fitzooth, Earl of Huntington and Lord of Locksley, favored companion of the late King. Sir Robert could inspire men with a single gesture, while Mercadier had to fight and struggle to get his soldiers to even listen to his commands.

He hated Locksley with an intense, jealous hatred. If he thought he could get away with it, he would kill him.

"Interesting place to make Confession, Mercadier," Robin smirked, regaining his arrogance. "I'd watch out if I were you. Mother Bella can offer no absolution, just a pathway straight to Hell."

Isabella, clothed in her scarlet nightdress, refused to let Robin ignore her. "What a fresh faced boy you look, Robin!" she cried, seeing him clean shaven for the first time. "I much prefer you in a beard. You don't look half so wicked this way."

"If you want wickedness, Isabella," Robin sneered back at her, "you need look no further than your own heart."

"Well, la dee dah dee dah, as Vaisey would say. Why are you here, Robin? If I'd known you were burning for me, I wouldn't have let Mercadier into my bed."

The mercenary's hatred for Robin flared even more intensely.

"You overestimate your charms, Isabella, such as they are. I never burned for you, and I never will. But, since you ask, I'll tell you why I'm here. I'm here to warn you. Your come uppance has come due, Isabella. For too long, you have robbed the people to keep yourself in luxury. Your very presence here threatens the well being of my family, and that is something I cannot allow. You're finished. I will write to the Archbishop of York, telling him of your foul deeds, and he will see you unfrocked and banished from the Church, and the shire."

"But why settle for the Archbishop, Robin? Why not write directly to my former husband, the King?"

"King John is an evil fiend, like yourself."

Mercadier stood and faced Robin. "You speak treason," he accused.

"Fluently."

Isabella tried employing her most seductive expressions on Robin, but he was completely in love with his wife, and repulsed rather than tempted by her overdone allure.

"So," she stated, "you say you plan to write, meaning you haven't sent the letter yet."

"I'll deliver it in person, if it will hasten your departure."

Isabella shot Robin a triumphant glare, a look filled with victory, scorn, and longing. "Mercadier, call forth your soldiers. Protect me by killing this base man. After all, who could fault you for protecting the holy Abbess of Kirklees, when Locksley broke into her chambers and forced himself upon her? Rape is such a nasty little crime!"

...

**(Note: Geoffrey Plantagenet and Mercadier are actual historical figures, whom I tried to portary accurately.)**


	75. Chapter 75

Marian was distinctly annoyed with her husband as she walked briskly down the hallway toward her bedchamber.

She knew very well what sort of a man she had married. Brave, noble, witty, principled, kind and generous to a fault, yet untamed and unpredictible, and sometimes thoughtless as well. And this morning he had definitely acted thoughtlessly.

Gone, without a word to a soul concerning his whereabouts, or when to expect him home! Well, he could expect an earful from her when he finally showed his face at home again!

Her irritation gave way to surprise when she opened her chamber door and saw Robin sitting slouched on the bed, his body a mass of cuts and bruises.

"What happened to you?" Marian cried, closing the door and rushing to him.

"A skirmish," he answered, hanging his head.

Marian bit back her scoldings. She refused to hit Robin with them when he was suffering such obvious pain.

"Let me bathe your wounds," she insisted, filling a basin with clear cool water and finding a clean cloth.

Her husband's beautiful male body was marked by signs of a battle, not a skirmish. A bloody slice over his heart was joined by several gashes to his forearms and legs, as well as countless bruises. His face, thankfully, remained unmaimed.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked, while gently cleaning his wounds. Tense from the sight of him so badly injured, she could not keep the impatience from her voice.

"We need to pack," was all the answer he provided.

"Pack? Why? To go where? Robin, tell me what's happened!"

"Your bedside manner's really improved over the years, my love. I'll never forget the time you deliberately stung me with that thread, while you were stitching up my-OW!"

He gave her a startled, wounded look.

"It seems you _have_ forgotten, if you think I won't do it again," Marian warned him. "Now, tell me where you were and who did this to you!"

Robin glanced toward the ceiling, breathed out a long, drawn out sigh, then met his wife's inquiring gaze.

"I paid a visit to Kirklees Abbey this morning," he confessed.

Marian dropped the cloth in the basin, splashing water on her gown.

"Kirklees Abbey?" she repeated, in shocked frustration. "No wonder you kept your whereabouts secret! Robin, how could you?"

"I was a fool," he admitted. "I went to gloat, to tell Isabella she was finished. I wasn't expecting to meet an army of old friends."

"To gloat? Really? And this is the result? I almost think you got what you deserved. And you're right. You _are _a fool." She picked up the cloth, wrung it out, and resumed dabbing it on the bloody slashes on his body. Her eyes looked sad to see the body she loved so well so badly bruised and battered. "What army?" she asked, her voice turning gentle again.

"Have I ever mentioned Mercadier to you?"

"King Richard's captain of his mercenaries? From what you've said, or neglected to say, I never would have called him your friend."

"He's no friend. He tried to kill me."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes. And every one of his men, who attacked me. If I'd allowed myself to kill, I wouldn't half resemble a chess board right now."

Marian held her tongue. She was intensely proud of him for resisting to kill, and privately acknowledged his clever metaphor. He did look a bit like a chess board, with his red gashes and black bruises. But her practical mind returned to important matters.

"You say we need to pack. Does that mean Mercadier may still be after you? And where do you propose we go?"

"To York. To the Archbishop. Isabella's accusing me of rape, Marian."

Marian dropped the cloth in the basin once again, staring at Robin through wide, round, unbelieving eyes.


	76. Chapter 76

A servant trod on silent feet across stone floors of the Archbishop of York's palace. With a barely discernable clearing of his throat to make his presence known, he respectfully ventured, "Your Grace, His Grace the Earl of Huntington is here, with his family, and requests an audience."

The archbishop eagerly put aside his tedious work and rose to his feet. "His family, did you say? By all means, do not keep Huntington waiting! Show them in!"

And then, he changed his mind. "Wait!" he cried. "Bring me a looking glass first. I want to be certain I'm presentable, for the Countess's eyes, you understand."

"Very good, Your Grace."

The looking glass was secured and handed to the archbishop with all due ceremony. Once Geoffrey was satisfied his appearance would please Lady Locksley, he bid his servant admit his guests.

...

"His Grace, the Earl of Huntington, and family," the servant announced, then ushered them into Geoffrey Plantagenet's private apartments.

Grace didn't understand why the servant called out her name and not Ellen or Edward's. She broke free from her mother's hand and tugged on the servant's arm. "Edderd and Ellen, too," she insisted.

Unused to small children in the palace, the servant ignored her, causing her to take matters into her own hands. "Edderd and Ellen!" she announced in her loudest voice, then rejoined her mortified mother and highly amused father.

Once the servant departed, shutting the heavy door behind him, Geoffrey Plantagenet opened wide his arms and greeted his unexpected guests. "Robin!" he cried, embracing the archer.

"Geoffrey. Thank you for seeing us."

Having welcomed the head of the family, Geoffrey was now free to turn his attention where he preferred. "Lady Locksley," he cooed, pressing her hand gallantly to his lips. "It is indeed my pleasure to welcome you."

"Your Grace is most kind to see us. We know how very busy you must be, especially this time of year."

"I am never too busy for you, my dear," he said, still clasping her hand. "I know now why the angels sent you back to Earth, after your 'deaths.' They were jealous to see Heaven's beauty outshone by your incredible loveliness."

"Your Grace is too kind."

"Please, call me Geoffrey."

"Thank you, Geoffrey. And I insist you call me Marian."

"With the greatest of pleasure...Marian."

Robin, growing perturbed by the overdone display of gallantry, interrupted the exchange. "Believe me, we would not disturb you during Holy Week if it weren't important."

"Tell me how I can help," Geoffrey offered, lightening his grasp on Marian's hand at last, enabling her to pull it free. "But please, sit."

Marian gracefully took a seat, and Robin handed her their son. He preferred to stand, but sat as well, after the archbishop did so first.

"Now, Robin, tell me why you have brought your charming family to see me."

Robin drew Geoffrey's attention back to him, no easy task with Marian on hand, then began his explanation. "I've run into a bit of trouble at home," he admitted.

Geoffrey chuckled lightly. "Ah, yes! Trouble always goes looking for you, doesn't it?"

"It does," Robin agreed, in all seriousness. "And this time it's in the guise of Isabella of Gisbourne, and her thug Mercadier."

"Isabella! I'm not surprised. But Mercadier? I thought he was in the pay of my brother the king, now that he can no longer serve Lionheart."

"I haven't seen him since Acre," Robin said. "And now he wants to kill me."

Geoffrey snorted. "Now? I have news for you, Robin. That man has always wanted to kill you."

Robin's eyes grew wide in disbelief.

The archbishop resumed the conversation. "You didn't know? You are too trusting, my friend. But it's true. Are you aware that Mercadier was with my brother Richard when he died?"

Robin looked grieved, as he always did whenever his hero's death was mentioned. "I believe it. For all his faults, Mercadier was intensely loyal to His Majesty."

"He worshipped him. Which is why he hates you so much. Do you know what Richard said to him, as he lay dying, poisoned by the arrow wound to his shoulder?"

Robin shook his head, and leaned forward.

"He told him to give his love to his queen, and to deliver a message to you."

"To me?"

"I'm not surprised you never got it, though it has to be the only time Mercadier refused my brother's commands. The message, as I recall, went something along the lines of Richard wanting to thank you for your loyal service and devotion to him, and then, as a final insult to Mercadier, my brother uttered his dying words. 'We are Robin Hood,' he is said to have uttered."

Extremely moved, Robin reached out a hand. Marian found it, entwining her fingers through his.

"And after that," Geoffrey continued, "Mercadier personally flogged the poor boy who had 'accidentally' shot the fatal arrow, even though Richard had made quite a show of pardoning him. But Mercadier didn't stop there. He then had the boy's eyes gouged out, the bastard. Pardon me, milady. Oh, yes, Robin, Mercadier has been waiting for an opportunity to kill you for years. Imagine, he devoted his entire life to the Lionheart, yet never received a single word of thanks. Richard reserved those all for you."

"I can protect myself from Mercadier, and his thugs," Robin assured Geoffrey. "The real evil is Isabella."

"Our once queen. What a farce that was! Not that the thirteen-year-old who sits on the throne and warms John's bed now is much better! Pardon me, milady."

Marian was so busy trying to keep her daughters still, she had missed Geoffrey's comment.

"Perhaps we could continue this conversation in my gardens," the archbishop offered, noticing how restless the children were becoming.

"Yes, please," Marian said, relieved.

"Well, then, I insist you take my arm...Marian."

"Thank you, Geoffrey."

Marian gave Robin a little amused smile and a roll of her eyes as she handed him back their baby. He half grinned back at her, but sighed in frustration at having to follow the archbishop to the gardens, with Marian on his arm.


	77. Chapter 77

Despite it being Holy Week, that night the archbishop hosted a huge feast in his palace, to honor the presence of his guests.

The children ate their suppers in the sumptuous apartments the family had been assigned, watched over by Bridget Thornton who, together with Robin's manservant Thomas and Marian's lady's maid Sarah, had accompanied the family to York.

The feast rivalled the grandest one of any European Court, with music, jugglers, and tables piled high under all varieties of wine, fish, bread, vegetables, fruits, and puddings. Eggs and meats were forbidden during Lent, but no one could say the archbishop deprived his guests of any delicacy.

Marian, seated at the right hand of Geoffrey, was enjoying herself immensely. Robin, seated on the archbishop's left, did not share his wife's enthusiasm.

In pain from the wounds he had suffered in his fight with Mercadier and his men, Robin did not relish watching Geoffrey flirt so openly with Marian. For although Marian gave the archbishop no encouragement other than proper courtesy and kindness, Geoffrey was so smitten by the beautiful Lady Locksley, Marian had to constantly draw his attention toward her husband, to include Robin in their conversations.

Accustomed to courtly practices, Robin still chafed at distinguishing people's worth by their station. Those of higher pedigree were seated "above the salt" at the table, while those of lesser rank were seated below it. After drinking more wine than he normally would have, for he found it helped to ease his pain, Robin took issue with Geoffrey about this practice.

"I thought all men are equal, in God's eyes."

"In God's eyes, they are. But not at this table."

Geoffrey turned smiling eyes back to Marian. "Are you enjoying the music, my dear?"

But Robin was not ready to let the argument rest. "Why not at this table?" he asked. "Aren't you a man of God? I would think you, of all people, would set an example to follow Christ."

Marian, preferring the argument to frivolous talk of wine and music, agreed with her husband. "I am sure there are those seated 'below the salt' whose gifts and talents far exceed many seated above," she added. "Why cannot we converse with them? If Your Grace found them worthy to be invited to your feast, then why insult them by classifying them, according to their accident of birth?"

"There are no accidents in God's Kingdom," Geoffrey responded. "He determines birth rank. He chose you, fair Marian, to be born of high stock, and therefore worthy to sit 'above the salt,' and enjoy my rapt attention. And now, what would you say if I told you I am planning a dance to be held in your honor?"

"A dance?" Robin scoffed. "During Holy Week? When are you planning to hold this dance? On Ash Wednesday? Maundy Thursday? Why not make it Good Friday? Why not dance away the night our Lord was crucified?"

Marian shot Robin a look of warning.

Geoffrey took satisfaction in Robin's obvious irritation. So, Locksley was jealous! How amusing!

"I was hoping you would stay past Sunday, and I could host an Easter ball in your honor," the archbishop replied. "You know, there's going to be jousting in York, after Church services, of course. You could enter the lists, Robin. I remember how well you enjoy the joust."

Robin's eyes lit up, but then he shook his head. "No," he said. "We need to be home by Easter."

"Why?" Marian asked, thrilled by the thought of an Easter ball.

"For one thing, my love," he said, "our people would miss us. For another, we wouldn't want the girls to miss the egg hunt."

"Ah, yes!" Geoffrey acknowledged. "Hiding eggs for children to discover teaches them how our Lord's disciples went searching for Christ, when the tomb was empty. But your children can hunt for eggs here! Do you not think York's Easter egg hunt, on the fairgrounds, with a feast and a joust, would be more exciting for them than your smaller, simpler celebration, in Locksley?"

"Our children are small. Locksley's celebration will excite them enough."

"Besides," Marian agreed, disappointed but resigned, "we didn't pack clothing suitable for an Easter ball."

The archbishop smiled. "Allow me to remedy that for you!" Summoning a servant, he commanded, "Bring Her Ladyship a generous gift of silver coins! My bounty is yours, Marian. The lightness of your feet on the dance floor will more than compensate the lightness of my purse."

"Keep your money," Robin snarled. "I can provide clothing for my own wife."

The archbishop felt a twinge of fear at the hard glitter in Robin's eyes. Perhaps he had overstepped his bounds. He thought it best to shy away from his flirtation with the lovely Lady Locksley. For now, at least.

"Of course you can," he said, respectfully. "I only meant to be kind."

"And we appreciate all you're doing for us," Marian assured him.

Robin downed another chalice of wine. His wounds were throbbing with pain, and he was in a black mood. "Speaking of that," he growled, "I'd like to know what exactly you're planning to do, to root out the Serpent of Kirklees. Shouldn't you be planning that, instead of jousts and balls?"

"I will see that she's removed from the Church, never fear. But I refuse to talk business at the table. This is a feast in your honor! Come! Eat! Drink! Enjoy!"

"I've had enough enjoyment for one night," Robin told him, scowling.

Marian couldn't agree more. Robin was far from his usual, charming self. She thought it best that they go to bed.

"Forgive us, Geoffrey," she said sweetly. "As much as we appreciate your gracious hospitality, it has been a long day, and my husband and I need to retire."

"Of course." Geoffrey rose to his feet, followed by all his guests. "Goodnight. Should either of you require anything at all, please, do not hesitate to ask. But I implore you, think over my offer to stay over the holy day. It has been many years since I've seen you joust, Robin."

"Thank you," Robin said, more agreeably. "My wife and I will consider your invitation. Goodnight." Possessively taking Marian's arm, he left the banquet to lead her to their guest chambers.


	78. Chapter 78

Marian held her tongue until the liveried servant, who led her and her husband to their chambers, departed and closed their door. But as soon as the door latched shut, she turned on Robin and began delivering the lecture she felt he deserved.

"You were certainly rude and disagreeable tonight! What was wrong with you, Robin?"

"Wrong?" He scoffed. "I just don't enjoy watching other men openly make love to my wife."

"That's not what he was doing! Geoffrey was simply being charming."

"Geoffrey!"

Marian rolled her eyes. "That _is _his name. I gave you no cause to be jealous. Grow up."

They suspended their argument to look in on their sleeping children. The angelic sight of their three precious young ones soothed the pain from Robin's battle wounds far better than the wine he had drunk at the feast. If there had been another bed in their chamber, he would have stretched out upon it and slept there all night. But unfortunately for him, there was not.

Closing the door to their own bedchamber, Marian resumed their heated discussion. "The archbishop is helping us, Robin, not to mention being a very generous host. I should think you could at least be civil, and not act like a boorish oaf!"

Robin, slightly drunk and hurting, was in no mood to argue. He dismissed her accusation with a superior scowl and a huff, then began stripping off his clothing so he could go to bed.

Marian saw him wince in pain as he pulled off his shirt. The glaring red gashes and deep black purple bruises on his arms and chest made her catch her breath.

"Robin," she said, her voice sounding small and anxious, "you're in pain."

"I've felt worse," he said, dismissing her attempt to be kind.

"But you're...were you hurting at the banquet? Is that why you were so unpleasant?"

Marian remembered how much the single wound Gisbourne had given her arm had hurt when she had been forced to sit through Sheriff Vaisey's fair several years ago. Robin was covered in such slices, and had been battered as well. All her irritation toward her husband melted into sympathy.

Robin remained distant and cold. Wearing nothing but his trousers, he climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling.

Marian sat on the edge of the bed, and spoke to him in gentle voice. "I wondered what was really bothering you. You always love parties."

"I love parties with good, honest people."

"You don't trust the archbishop?"

"Not any farther than I can throw him." Robin smirked, picturing himself hurling Geoffrey through the air, the archbishop's long robes flapping around his short, bandy legs.

"Then why did we come here?" Marian asked.

"I thought he was our greatest hope at removing Isabella. I thought Geoffrey would do something, other than make merry and flirt with you!"

Marian let that comment go. "I believe he will. Give him time, Robin. We only just arrived."

She lay down beside him, on top of the covers, and wrapped her arms lightly around his neck. "You never objected to him flirting with me before, when he visited us at home."

Robin heaved a sigh. "I was never a guest in his palace. How different is this, Marian, from Isabella's stealing from the Church, to live in luxury?"

Now Marian began to understand her husband's foul temper at dinner. "It's quite different," she explained. "Isabella stole money to buy herself things. Geoffrey is paid by the Church to live in a manner befitting his position."

"But where does the money come from?"

"From the Church, I suppose."

"From tithes and offerings of parishoners, most of them poor, who sacrifice to give so that their money may go to help those in need, and glorify God." Warming to his subject, Robin leaned up on one elbow and faced his wife. "I'm not saying the Archbishop of York should live in poverty. I'm only questioning the extreme opulence of his lifestyle. I mean, look at this chamber! These are new furnishings, Marian. I learned he had the old ones burnt, because he grew tired of them! He could at least have sold them, and given the money to the poor, or given them away to people who don't have beds to sleep in!"

Marian reached out her fingertips and brushed back his hair from his forehead. "You want to change the world, and I love you for it. But you need to let the Church decide where its monies go, Sweetheart. We live humbly, considering our rank and station, and our village is thriving, despite the king's crippling taxes. Take satisfaction in that, and continue to set that example. But don't be bitter, and judge others. It's not like you."

Marian rose and stepped into the small dressing chamber adjoining the bedroom, to put on the white nightdress Sarah had packed. While she dressed, she teased Robin.

"I'm the one who should be jealous, not you," she called back to him. "Did you see the way Lady Hereford was looking at you?"

"Which one was she?"

"How could you miss her? She was devouring you with her eyes."

"I saw the serving maid bow unusually low to me, and then spill the soup because she wasn't looking where she should, but I missed being eaten alive by a pair of...what color eyes, Marian?"

Marian returned to the bed and climbed under the covers. Robin winced from pain when he tried to hold her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

"That's what I get for my vanity, Tuck would say." He kissed her slowly, then said, "I really want to make love you tonight, but I-"

"You're hurt. But I have an idea."

He snickered. "You surprise me, Marian."

"I don't know why you're laughing, and I don't want to know. My thoughts are pure. What I'm thinking is...let's stay through Easter, as the archbishop suggested. It will give you time to heal, and we can all enjoy a holiday in this luxurious palace."

"And I can joust."

"Only if you're well enough."

"And you can dance."

"With you."

"I knew there was a catch."

"If you weren't already hurting, I'd punch you for that remark."

"Kiss me instead."

"For saying you don't want to dance with me? In your dr-Mmmmm..."


	79. Chapter 79

The next morning, a hearty breakfast of bread, cheese, and fish was ceremoniously delivered to Robin and Marian's apartment in the archbishop's palace. The day was Ash Wednesday, and Robin's family and servants had risen early to attend mass and make confession in York Minster, where Robin had been reunited with an old friend, Brother William de Conti, who had fought alongside him at Acre, as well as helping him try to save the Jews of York on a previous visit.

The Sheriff of York had been in attendance at the early morning church service, thankfully without his wife, for Robin had no wish to attract her roving eye again.

Robin's family was merry eating together, after the solemn service. Even the baby wore a cross of ashes on his tiny forehead, a mark indicating forgiveness.

"Come, Thomas, Sarah, Bridget, eat with us," Robin invited, making room for his servants at the table.

"Bless you, Master Robin," Sarah said. "There's none with such a good, generous heart in all the world."

"I miss Kitty," Grace complained.

"Moonlight's enjoying a long, peaceful rest, so he'll be all ready for you to chase him when we return home," Marian said, brushing her hand against Grace's cheek.

"When are we going home?" Ellen asked.

"Right after Easter. Daddy and I decided it would be fun to celebrate here."

"Can we hunt colored eggs?"

"There'll be as many eggs as there are stars in the sky," Robin grinned at Ellen.

"I packed the children's new Easter clothing, Master Robin," Bridget told him.

Marian was thrilled. "Bridget, how wonderful! And you must all have new clothing as well." She rose from the table and distributed a generous supply of coins to each of the servants. "Will that be enough?"

"More than enough, milady," Thomas said, awed by her kindness.

"I packed Your Ladyship's new Easter gown as well," Sarah told her. "We suspected you might choose to stay here awhile."

"Thank you, Sarah!" Marian turned to her husband, who was making his children scream with laughter playing the simple game of Peek-A-Boo.

"You can't get out of wearing something new, Robin. You need to visit a tailor while you're here. It's more than tradition, you know."

"I don't need anything new, Marian. No one here will care what I wear on my body."

"It marks your rebirth in our Lord, Robin."

"It's wasteful."

"I don't care. Buy yourself something blue, for me. I know you'll have no such qualms about purchasing new chainmail and lances for the joust, and that's far more wasteful than clothing you may wear for years to come."

"How can I argue? Thomas, take my advice and find yourself an intelligent wife. She'll keep your-"

A knock on their door interrupted their cheerful meal.

Thomas answered the knock, and returned bringing a sealed letter, addressed to Robin.

"Who's it from?" Marian asked.

Robin's expression turned sour after opening the seal. "It's from Isabella," he told his wife, in a cold, flat voice. "I don't want to read it."

Marian's face drained, but she put her hand over Robin's and said, "Then let me."

Silently, feeling a sense of dread, he nodded his head and handed her the letter.

Excusing themselves from the table, Robin followed Marian to their bedchamber and closed the door. "Are you ready?" Marian asked. "I only hope she's writing you 'goodbye.' "

In her clear, lovely voice, Marian read Isabella's letter to Robin aloud.

" 'My dear Robin,  
>I can only imagine your smug, gloating face right now, beardless as it currently is. I much prefer you all scruffy and scratchy, and I hope you will regrow that wicked looking beard of yours before we meet again. The archbishop's soldiers have arrived, sent by you to oust me from my place as Abbess of Kirklees. And now, I have nowhere to go, once again misused and mistreated by men, as has always been my fate. I remember you once telling me you would always protect me, wearing that sincere look on your face, but now I know how empty your promises were.<br>There is one meager consolation I will relish, as I struggle to survive in this man's world. Shall I tell you what it is? Think back to your imprisonment by my 'witch,' and know that I am telling you the truth now. She gave you a potion, Robin, that has rendered you sterile. That's right, you may rejoice in resembling your idol, our late King Richard, in that regard, at least. So, enjoy your three bratty 'blessings,' for you'll have no more. Unless, of course, Marian grows tired of you and finds amusement in other beds.  
>And now I must end my epistle, for the soldiers are pressing me to go. Who knows what frightful fate awaits me, a poor helpless woman? I hope your sweet, active conscience will keep you awake at night, knowing what evil you did to me.<br>Isabella of Gisbourne.' "

"It's not true," Marian said, in a weak voice. "She couldn't have poisoned you, that way."

"We were told once before we'd never have children, remember, Marian? That's never been in our hands, but in God's. The thing to do now is to thank God, and Geoffrey, for getting rid of that hag."

Robin seized the letter from his wife and burned it in the fire. Then, disregarding the pain from his wounds, he gathered Marian up in his arms and comforted her.


	80. Chapter 80

Robin and Marian quickly dismissed Isabella's accusation, choosing instead to rejoice in her removal from Kirklees Abbey. Robin lost no time apologizing to Archbishop Geoffrey for doubting him, and thanked him for his swift and immediate action. His optimistic nature helped convince himself that Isabella was gone for good.

Although York was solemn and subdued during Holy Week, Robin's family enjoyed themselves, seeing the sights and dwelling together in the archbishop's luxurious palace while Robin's wounds healed. Of course, they attended Holy Week services.

Maundy Thursday arrived with its three masses, and Robin explained it as simply as he could to his older daughter.

"This is the day our Lord celebrated the Last Supper. We also call it 'Shere Thursday,' and many men shere their hair and beards on this day to celebrate their repentance and forgiveness. As you know, I shaved my beard early this year."

"Let's cut Edward's hair!"

"I don't know whether your mother would approve of that, so let's not."

Good Friday brought the most solemn of all the church services, but the children were consoled by the hot cross buns that were reserved for this one day only of all the year. Marian explained how they must kiss the iced cross first before eating the buns.

On Saturday, Robin spent hours practicing for the joust. He found himself missing Much, even though Thomas acted as a far more level headed squire.

Marian and the children enjoyed watching him practice, but both parents agreed to keep the girls and the baby far away from the tiltyard during the actual joust. Even using blunt lances of wood containing no iron, there was a high risk of bloodshed, and even death.

Easter Sunday dawned sunny and glorious, and the family enjoyed the joyful early morning Easter mass, a huge breakfast of bread, meat, and eggs, and a delightful Easter egg hunt. Ellen treasured the many colored eggs she collected, but her favorite was a pinkish colored egg with a cracked and chipped shell. "It's sick. Don't worry, egg, Daddy will bring you a kitty to make you better," she told it soothingly. As for Gracie, she collected as many eggs as she could find, trotting along on her short sturdy legs. But her mother had to stop her from dropping her eggs in the fonts of holy water when they returned to the palace. Grace liked the sound of splashing.

Just before the joust was scheduled to begin, Robin sat proudly in his saddle, looking splendid in his shining new mailshirt covered with a green helm and green and gold gypon, woven with the Huntington crest of wheat. All around him, knights struggled to control their snorting, stamping horses and their own jittery nerves, but Robin was calmly excited and ready to joust. Lances were carefully inspected while priests intoned prayers and blessings, liberally sprinkling holy water on the field. Last year's Easter tournament had yielded eleven deaths.

Marian temporarily forsook her seat beside the Archbishop on the grandstand to share an intimate moment with her husband. Robin thought he'd never seen her look so beautiful as she gazed intently up at him, standing at his stirrup, her crystal blue eyes full of love and concern.

"Be careful," she told him, handing up a green ribbon to serve as her "favor."

"Don't worry about me," Robin responded, smiling down at her. "I plan to win this contest today." He held the ribbon to his lips, then winked at her before tying it around his right bicep.

A knight nearby in black and red was having difficulty controlling his highly strung charger, so he pummeled its head with a gauntletted fist. Both Robin and Marian glared at him.

"Knock him in the dirt, if you get the chance," Marian said, angry at any mistreatment to animals, particularly toward such a fine horse.

"As milady commands." Robin leaned down from his saddle to savor a warm, lingering kiss from his wife's fresh lips, then lowered his visor and galloped away to wait for his turn.

Neither he nor Marian knew there lurked a pox marked face under the red and black garbed contestant's visor. "Prepare to die, Locksley," Mercadier chanted quietly to himself.


	81. Chapter 81

As Marian took her seat on the grandstand to view the joust, she was greeted warmly by Archbishop Geoffrey.

"Ah, Marian! At last you join me! Are you enjoying the spectacle of the knights readying themselves to joust? My own attention, I confess, is divided between them, and the lovely image you present."

"Your Grace is too kind. But I warn you, when Robin jousts, every eye here, including yours, will be focused on him."

Trumpets blared a fanfare, signifying the joust was about to begin.

"Excuse me, my dear," the archbishop said, lifting Marian's hand and pressing it reverently to his lips. "I must lead a prayer to protect our brave contestants from certain bloodshed."

All heads bowed, and all the knights, except for the one wearing red and black, removed their helmets to pray.

Once the "amens" were spoken, the trumpets blared again, and the tournament marshall shouted out, "Glory to the victor! Glory to the brave!"

Robin was fourth in line to joust, and Marian caught him tossing her a wink, just before lowering his visor. Glory! she was thinking. How that word could turn her husband's head! She silently uttered her own prayer for his protection on the field.

Before it was Robin's turn to joust, he noticed the knight clad in red and black bribe his challenger to change places, so that he would be fourth and face Robin. Why would he do that? Was he a former Black Knight, and therefore an enemy? It didn't matter for now...all Robin knew was he would now have the opportunity to do as Marian had requested, and knock the black and red knight off his horse.

The initial three rounds of jousting saw no action. Knights had charged, but no one had been hit. Now that Robin's turn had come, he vowed to score a hit and make the crowd of spectators rise to their feet and cheer him.

He lowered his lance, couching its butt in his armpit, and stared across the field as his opponent did the same. Setting his shield on his left arm, he waited for the marshall's cry to charge.

It came, and he gave a hard nudge with his heels to Apollo's sides. His steed's hoofs thundered across the tourney field, drawing nearer and nearer to the rapidly approaching knight. Aiming his lance, Robin felt it slam into his opponent's shield with such force that he seemed to lift the knight off his horse and set him down in the dirt.

As he continued galloping past on Apollo, he exuberantly listened to the wild cheers of the crowd, and he grinned proudly under his visor.

Thomas ran to meet him and took his lance and helmet so that Robin could acknowledge the adulation of the spectators. His eyes sought Marian, longing for her approval, but she was shooting him a desperate warning look, the same expression her face had worn that time he had been pitted against Allan over a boiling cauldron of pitch. What could be wrong?

He turned and looked the direction her eyes indicated. His opponent had staggered to his feet and withdrawn his sword, and was now waving it as he stumbled toward Robin.

Tournament marshalls ran to stop him, but none wanted to get in the path of that swinging sword.

"I'll kill you, Locksley!" the knight's voice roared, muffled under his helmet.

The Code of Chivalry insisted a knight never refuse a challenge. Outraged by the knight's boorish behavior, Robin leaped from his saddle and unsheathed his own sword. Several ladies in the crowd screamed.

"Who are you?" Robin demanded, his sword slicing aside his opponent's furious blows. "What have I ever done to make you want to kill me?"

"Where were you when the Lionheart needed you in France? I fought alongside him, while you played Lord of the Manor, making babies with your perfect wife!"

"Dare mention my wife again, and you'll find yourself shorter by a head."

"You had your chance to kill me a few days ago, but you didn't take it. Why should I believe you'd kill me now?"

"Mercadier?" Robin was stunned, realizing his opponent's identity. "What are you doing here? You're not a knight! You shouldn't have been permitted to joust."

That comment sent Mercadier on a rampage. His sword hewed away at Robin, who only escaped its blows by his extraordinary skill and footwork.

"I devoted my life to Richard, and he never knighted me," Mercadier angrily accused. "Yet he dubbed you a knight at his Coronation banquet! One of his very first acts as King! He always favored you, above all other men! He heaped honors on you!"

"I earned my knighthood, fighting to stop the riots against Jews during his Coronation."

"And I didn't earn one? Not after fighting that bloody battle of Acre? Not after every other battle, every sweat drenched year in the Holy Land?"

"I was there, too. You earned one. But much as I loved my King, Richard wasn't infallible."

"You dare say that? I wish he were alive to hear you insult him!"

"I told him so to his face, on several occasions."

"When?"

The swordfight raged on through the battle of words. Both men were expert fighters, and the crowd held its collective breath at such a fierce and terrifying display of arms. Marian was on her feet, ready to steal a sword and rush in to help, should Robin need her.

"I told him so when he had us murder the captives at Acre. I told him so again when he tried to execute me and my men, tying us to trees and leaving us to bake in the desert sun."

Mercadier stepped back and lowered his sword. "He did what?" he asked, confounded.

"He tried to execute me," Robin repeated, lowering his sword as well.

"Why?"

"He didn't trust me as much as you believe. He believed an enemy over me, who implied I wanted to kill him."

Mercadier fell silent.

"But I-I thought you could do no wrong in Richard's eyes."

"No. Not on that day."

"Then why...why am I trying to kill you?"

"I don't know. We should be brothers-in-arms, Mercadier, not enemies. We loved and served the same King, as faithfully and loyally as our consciences allowed. We fought on the same side. Why turn against each other, when there are so many people who need our protection, and so much evil that needs defeating?"

Both men were panting heavily, exhausted by their battle. Both wore fresh wounds, but none were fatal. Mercadier dropped to his knees and offered up his sword.

"Forgive me," he pleaded. "I didn't think."

Robin knelt beside him, and held the tough, battle scarred warrior in his arms. Mercadier, who hadn't shed a tear since he had been a boy, began to cry now. "He was my hero," he sobbed. "I still can't believe he's gone."

"He's in a better place," Robin said quietly, saddened as well. "One day we'll meet him again, God willing."

The crowd began to applaud, slowly and quietly at first, and then escalating its applause into a thunderous sound. Marian watched her husband in amazement, wondering how he could have softened the hardened soldier. So completely focused was she on Robin, she did not notice Archbishop Geoffrey summon one of his servants and issue an order to have Mercadier killed on the morrow for trying to murder Lord Locklsey. After all, it wouldn't do to shed blood on Easter.

...

**(When I first introduced Mercadier into this story, I didn't realize he was assassinated on the Monday following Easter, in the year 1200. It fit the timeline of my story so well, I had to include it. However, the Archbishop of York had nothing to do with his murder. He was actually killed by one of King John's mercenaries.  
>I would like to thank Robinhood447 for suggesting Mercadier have a "Carter" moment, and be turned toward good.)<strong>


	82. Chapter 82

Marian pulled back the blue and white silk tent flap just off the tiltyard to see Thomas helping her husband remove his mailshirt. "I'll take over," she kindly told the manservant.

Thomas bowed his head and stepped outside the tent, and Robin turned proud, shining eyes on his wife.

"Let's take a look at your wounds," Marian said efficiently, longing to tell Robin how magnificent she thought him, but somehow being unable to voice the words.

"Just a few scratches, I think," Robin said, dismissing the seriousness of his fresh wounds.

"Sit down. I'll clean them."

Robin obediantly sat, while Marian located clean cloths and a basin of clear water set out in the tent. "We're making a habit of this," she commented, dabbing gently at his "scratches." "I don't like it."

"I do. At least, I can't complain about this part."

His lips caught hers, and he was pleasantly surprised when she threw herself against him and urgently kissed him back.

"You were worried about me!" he said, amazed, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I've gotten used to having you around, is all," she replied, almost fighting back tears. "You're good for locking up the house at night, and for...for frightening away marauders."

"As if you need me for that! I'll never forget the day you met me at your front door, with an arrow aimed between my eyes."

"You deserved it, after staying away so long."

"I won't go away again, that's for sure," he said, seeking her lips.

She couldn't help herself from pressing her palms into his chest and running them up and down his torso as they kissed. He cried out aloud when she accidentally rubbed against a wound.

"Sorry," she told him, gasping and pulling away. "We need to focus. I need to wash your 'scratches.' "

"Let them wait."

They kissed again, even more passionately. Marian struggled against her desires and pulled away once more.

"_We_ can wait," she corrected him.

"I just thought we might take advantage of this tent and enjoy our own private 'tilt,' " he said, teasingly.

"You did, did you? In a tent, where anyone could walk in? I don't think so."

"You're a spoilsport, Marian."

"Maybe. But I thought the rules clearly state your lance must be blunt."

Robin's eyes widened in surprise at her comment, and he began laughing heartily while she blushed and smiled.

"Clean me up, then, my love, so I may reenter the lists. I haven't finished yet today, neither on that field, or with you."

"Save your strength. I'm looking forward to dancing with you tonight, don't forget."

"I can't wait."

"I'm referring to the ball."

"The ball. I'm looking forward to that, too, Marian."

"Then be careful. And win the tournament, if you can."

"I expect to."

His wounds were clean, and she assisted him putting on his mailshirt, helm, and gypon.

"How do I look?" he asked her.

She studied him seriously, her eyes shining with love and affection. "Like all my loveliest dreams come true," she admitted, then hurried, embarrassed, from the tent.

~FIN~


End file.
